


Like a Lightning Bolt to the Heart

by FlashThroughLight



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and Violence, Dick Grayson is a Talon, Graphic Description, M/M, Murder, Slow Burn, batfamreversebang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-22
Updated: 2017-09-22
Packaged: 2019-01-04 05:43:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 30,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12162687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlashThroughLight/pseuds/FlashThroughLight
Summary: Damian encounters Talon, an assassin of the fabled Court of Owls, while investigating a string of murders. When Damian fails at apprehending the Talon, he makes it his mission to find out as much as he can, even if it means bringing up ghosts of the past.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pentapus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pentapus/gifts).



> Written for the Batfamily Reverse Big Bang! I'd like to thank the moderator for setting up this awesome challenge and having patience with me =) 
> 
> This story was written for Pentapoda, who created a gorgeous piece of art that I couldn't pull myself away from. You can find the art on [Tumblr](https://pentapoda.tumblr.com/post/165661595323/a-batfamreversebigbang-prompt-for/)
> 
> I'd like to thank Woctab for her beta reading, masteroftobi for listening to my many rants about this fic, and Pentapoda for helping me brainstorm! I told myself that I wouldn't get too deep into this and I'm pretty sure you can all see at how much I really didn't do very well. Written almost entirely to Lightning by Cash Cash.

There was a dark figure in the corner of his eye. Normally Damian wouldn’t take something so insignificant to heart, but there was something about the dark shape that made him stop in his tracks.

In their line of work, dark shapes in alleyways were normal. Most of the time _they_ were the dark shapes in the alleyways. However, it wasn’t too out of the ordinary for another person to be lurking in the shadows. It had been a long time since Damian had been pulled away from what he was doing to investigate something that he’d seen.

There were figures in the shadows and then there were _figures_ in the shadows. He learned to tell the difference between the two at a very young age. His mother had always claimed that they were masters of the shadow, that they had nothing to fear. His father claimed otherwise. He spoke of the horrors lurking around the corners, ones that even they were not able to deal with.

They might be masters of the shadows in Gotham, but they were far from the only ones. Damian never saw reason to fear the shadows, even though he started to doubt his confidence the longer that he stayed with his father. A constant reminder of something being right there alongside him without him even knowing sent prickles down his spine.

This dark figure was one with a purpose. It had waited until Damian had gone by to cross the alleyway. That made it potentially dangerous. Whoever it was wasn’t following him – Damian would’ve noticed that – but they were on some kind of mission.

Damian backtracked to the spot where he’d seen the figure, but there was no trace of them besides a single shoeprint in the direction of where the figure had gone. It was a slim foot, only a size or two bigger than Damian’s. Either it was someone his age or it was a very slightly adult.

He had it half in his mind to go investigate, something that had become ingrained in him since he’d started training with his father, but there were other things to do.

“ETA?” Batman’s voice came over the comm.

“Three minutes.” If he hadn’t stopped, he would’ve almost been there.

Hopefully this figure wasn’t looking for trouble. Damian left the scene to go join his father. They had an important meeting to break up. There would always be time to deal with things lurking in the shadows later.

Damian made his way to the meeting point with Batman. They perched on top of the warehouse, looking down at the proceedings underneath them. First, they had to confirm that this was the shipment of automatic weapons that they were after. Either way, they’d break up the deal, but it would dictate how they went along dealing with the thugs.

He got the sign to breach from Batman and the glass window below them shattered. Taking care of the thugs was ridiculously simple. Hardly even a challenge for a fighter of his calibre.

In no time Damian dealt with the thugs on his side. From the sounds of it, Batman was just finishing up as well.

By the time Damian turned around every thug was already either groaning on the floor or unconscious.

“Check the crates,” Batman said as he started dragging the thugs closer to each other so he could tie them up and leave them ready for pick up by the GCPD.

Damian peered into the crate closest to him. There were the automatic weapons. There was a variety of submachine guns, shotguns, and even a machine gun. “It looks like they were getting ready for war.”

The comms cracked to life and both Damian and Batman stopped. “There have been reports of a murder about three blocks from your location. The scene is rather bloody,” Agent A said. “The homicide department has already taken over the scene. Perhaps a trip to Commissioner Gordon is in order,” he said, calm as ever.

He failed to see the importance of one particular crime scene. Perhaps it was a killer that Batman had run into before. It really was hard to know sometimes. Even though Damian had been with his father for two years now, there was still information that he wasn’t privy to.

It infuriated Damian that there were secrets being kept from him. A part of him understood the need for them – how could he not? – and he knew that he just had to accept the way that things were.

“It’s time for you to turn in for the night,” Batman said. His cape flowed in the wind as he stepped out of the warehouse, already using his gauntlet computer to call the Batmobile.

“What?” Damian snapped and he hurried after Batman. “It is barely midnight and it’s a weekend!” Tonight was supposed to be the night that Damian could spend an entire patrol with Batman. That was the agreement. Two full patrol rotations every week. It was an arrangement they’d made early on when Damian had just started patrolling with Batman.

“Yeah, kid. It’s time to run on home,” one of the thugs muttered. He even spat blood on the ground as Damian walked by.

The man tied up next to the thug quickly elbowed him. “Shut up! You don’t want him coming after you.”

“I’m not scared of him. This new Robin is nothing compared to hi-”

Damian growled as he punched the thug in the face. He was immediately knocked unconscious and he’d definitely have a black eye when he woke up.

The Batmobile’s tires squealed as it came to a stop beside Batman. “Robin.”

His fists clenched at his sides as he stalked over to Batman. “I’m sick and tired of being underestimated.” And still being called the new Robin. Damian had been Robin for over two years now.

Batman squeezed his shoulder. “You’ll get there.”

Damian got into the Batmobile and crossed his arms over his chest. Even as the door closed and the Batmobile started driving back to the Cave on auto pilot, Damian steamed. On the one hand, it felt degrading to be constantly referred to as the new Robin, but on the other hand, it was hard to take over a mantle that had been held by the same person for nearly a decade. Damian was filling someone else’s shoes.

Not that it really mattered. Damian loved being Robin. He loved the feeling that it gave him, being able to be beside Batman during the night. He just never expected how hard it would be to make Robin his own. There were foes that respected him for who he was, but a lot of the lowlifes were always making comments like that one thug had tonight.

When he got back to the Cave, Alfred was already waiting for him with tea.

“Thank you, Alfred,” Damian said as he took the cup off the tray.

“You’re very welcome, Master Damian. Your clothes are on the bench in the dressing room.” Alfred walked over to the computer and set the tray down.

Damian followed him, letting the warmth of the tea heat up his gloves. It was starting to get colder at night, something that he was still trying to get used to. “What are you looking at?”

“Nothing of concern.” Alfred turned the monitor off, but not before Damian saw a picture of a feather drenched in blood.

Was it in connection with the murder scene that Alfred had called them about? How had he gotten hold of pictures already if the GCPD was at the scene? Surely Batman hadn’t been able to secure a viewing of the scene with Gordon yet. That was much too short notice.

“I fail to see why I was sent home,” Damian said, taking a sip of the tea. “I could’ve joined a different patrol.” There were a few others that he could have gone to instead of returning to the manor.

“You may inquire with your father when he returns.” Alfred locked the computer as well. As if Damian wouldn’t be able to hack into it with ease. He’d hacked NORAD at the age of six. Even with all its formidable defences, the computer was not match for Damian. For now, he’d let the matter be. Perhaps his father would talk to him about it when Damian asked. It was certainly worth a try.

“Very well. Has he come back yet?” Damian asked. It could be that he’d been sent back to the Cave simply because there was no other patrol to join for the night.

Alfred shook his head. “Your older brother has a case of his own to work on.”

Everyone had something to work on besides Damian. He was expected to return home to tea and comfortable clothes, while everyone else was still out and about. Even Alfred had his own job to do. “May I help you with the inventory?” It was menial work, but it was better than sitting around doing nothing.

“Of course. You may start with the medical supplies.”

Damian set his tea aside and got changed before he walked over to Alfred and helped him. He supposed that assisting with the inventory for their medical supplies was a necessity. God forbid they run out of any essential supplies when they needed it most. They’d had enough emergency medical treatments to deal with over the years. Damian didn’t dare think what it’d be like if they didn’t have all the supplies that they needed to deal with a bullet wound.

Alfred kept him busy. He kept moving him from task to task, keeping Damian’s mind off of patrol and the clock. That didn’t stop time from moving by slowly though. Damian had been prepared to spend the entire night on patrol and his body felt tight. He’d expected to be moving around all night. That turned out to not be true in the slightest.

The Batmobile came back to the Cave at 2 AM sharp. Damian was surprised that his father hadn’t stayed out longer because he hadn’t been around. He set the clipboard down and hurried down the steps to greet his father when he came back.

He’d immediately ask about the murder when his father got out of the Batmobile. “Father!”

Damian slowed down when his father came out of the Batmobile with his lips turned down and a furrow that Damian could see even through the cowl.

“You’re still up,” Bruce said when he saw Damian coming down the steps towards him.

“Of course. I had to make certain that you arrived home properly.” If Damian couldn’t be out on the streets with his father, he was most certainly going to wait up for him. Especially since it was a weekend.

Bruce huffed softly and he patted Damian’s shoulder, pulling his cowl down. “You know you don’t have to.

“But I want to.” Damian let himself be herded back up the stairs. Now that the cowl was off, Damian saw the tiredness on his father’s face. His face was flushed more than it usually was and his left eye was slightly less open than his right eye. A sure way to pick up on how tired his father was. A little trick which he had learned from Alfred.

His father’s hand slipped off of his shoulder when Alfred came over with a cup of tea for him. Bruce picked up one of the cups. “Has everyone sounded off for the night?” He asked.

“They have indeed, Master Bruce,” Alfred said.

If everyone had sounded off for the night that meant that they were back home. Damian had only heard the Batmobile come into the Cave though. Surely Damian would’ve noticed if the motorcycle had come in for the night. He hadn’t been that focused on assisting Alfred with the inventory. Damian walked over to the railing and looked down where the vehicles were parked. Off in the corner, there the motorcycle was. Right where it was supposed to be. Now the main question was when had he come in? Alfred said that he’d still been out on his own case, so he must’ve come back within the past few hours.

And he didn’t even greet Damian when he came back. Damian’s grip on the railings tightened. Some kind of big brother. He certainly hadn’t been Damian’s first choice of what his sibling would be like, but he’d definitely grown on Damian if not by his sheer stubbornness.

They were both stubborn and it worked, somehow.

“Boo.” Hands grabbed his sides and lifted him up.

Damian shouted out in surprise and held onto the railing. He would not allow himself to be picked up like some ragdoll. “What are you doing?”

“Scaring you.” The hands on his sides squeezed in and Damian jerked at his sides were tickled.

“You’re the worst.” Damian was slung over a shoulder before being brought back to where his father and Alfred were. “You were not scary in the least. You should change your name. It is unbefitting.”

“I’m damn terrifying. Ask any bozo on the street.”

“Language, please,” Alfred said, as if it would work. He’d been berating the foul language for years without any success.

Damian was dropped down on the ground and he almost fell over, but a hand gripped his shoulder. “Of course, Alfie. Sorry, Alfie.”

“You are hardly terrifying. Specters are supposed to inspire fear in people,” Damian scoffed, shoving the hand off his shoulder before he brushed himself off. There wouldn’t be anything on him, but it was the action itself that Damian found satisfying.

“What do you think, old man? Do I make a good Specter?” He asked.

Bruce looked his eldest son over with a critical eye. “The white doesn’t necessarily fit the image.”

“I’ll have you know that this is ash grey, not white. Aren’t you supposed to be some kind of socialite?” He held out his arm, running his hand over the sleeve of his jacket.

Alfred sighed and shook his head. “Master Jason, we’ve had this conversation before.”

“Right, whatever.” Jason undid the latch of his mask and peeled it off. “You’re all wrong, by the way.” He unzipped his jacket as he sauntered towards their small change room.

Damian shook his head at Jason. He was always posturing and snapping back at what everyone said. Part of it was stubbornness and the other part was insecurity. Damian knew how he felt all too well, but Jason certainly made a bigger deal of it all. Foolish of course. How could Jason of all people be insecure? It was something that Damian didn’t understand.

There was more than enough time to ponder over Jason. For now, there were more important things that Damian wanted to talk about. “Father, did you speak to Gordon about the murder?”

Bruce sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Damian…”

“You act as if I don’t know what murder is,” Damian said.

His father’s shoulders slumped, like they always did when Damian not so subtly reminded him that once, Damian had been considered a murderer as well. Damian had seen it, lived it. There wasn’t much about killing that could surprise him anymore.

“There are a series of murders that I’ve been keeping tabs on over the years. There could be a few of them every year, but sometimes there aren’t any at all,” Bruce started explaining.

“So how do you know that they’re connected?” His father wouldn’t keep track of all of these sporadic murders if they didn’t have something in common.

Bruce walked over to the computer, unlocking it and attaching a cable to his cowl. A download bar appeared on the screen and blinked away in a few seconds. His father navigated through a few different folders and downloaded a few files before he pulled up a picture. It was similar to the one that Damian had seen earlier before Alfred shut the computer off when he’d returned.

This one was of the entire crime scene. The body was missing – no doubt already having been taken by the homicide lab – and there were markings all over the place. There was blood everywhere. Damian recognized arterial spurt patterns easily. The victim’s aorta had been sliced open, apparent due to the pulsatile pattern on the wall as the artery had high pressure. The large stains of blood had a downward flow, one that got lower and lower.

“The victim was on their knees when their aorta was cut.” Damian pointing at the waves of blood on the wall. “It was a single cut with a sharp weapon, no hesitation. The victim fell over, which causes the pattern to go down lower.” He followed along the trail with his finger.

“That’s correct. The killer was behind the victim. The cut was smooth, deepening the further that their throat was slit. There were no signs of struggle though. Either the victim was ambushed or they couldn’t put up a fight at all,” Bruce said.

Damian wondered what the autopsy photos of the cut would be like. Whoever had done this worked with precision cutting deep enough with the first touch to slice the aorta. “But why was the victim on their knees?”

“So he could be on display.” Jason walked over, waving off the tea that Alfred offered him. He pointed at the mirror. “Their last moment was spent looking at themselves in terror while the killer stood behind them. They likely saw their throat being slit. This killer wanted the victim to know who was killing them. It’s very intimate.”

For all that Damian had done under the tutelage of his grandfather and his mother, taking something so personal was something that he’d never done. It was always deal with the target and continue. “So, they knew each other?”

“Possibly,” Bruce said, leaning back in the chair and tapping his chin.

“It is a very distinctive crime though…” Damian didn’t understand. “Does the killer get close to every victim and kill them in such a way? It’s a very obvious call sign.”

Bruce leaned forward and changed the focus of the picture. “That isn’t the call sign.”

“Then how do you know that the murders are connected?” Damian asked.

“Each murder is different in their own way, except for one part.” The section of the bedroom that he zoomed in on was the dresser under the mirror. There was a small vase that held various decorations. “It’s the feather.”

Amongst the rest of the trinkets, the feather was the one that stood out to Damian the least. “A feather?”

More cropped pictures appeared on the screen. Each had a date on the bottom right, and some of the dates were almost a decade ago. All of them had a feather in them, each slightly different from the other. Sometimes it was hidden between decorations, other times it was in the hands of the victims, and there were also pictures in which the feather was on the ground with the pooling blood.

“Is this the only similarity between the murders?” Damian asked. It was a very thin thread to go off of, but he wasn’t surprised that his father had found the connection.

“Many of the victims have nothing in common, coming from different backgrounds entirely. There’s only one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“They were all trying to change Gotham, be it for the better or the worse.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am a dumpster collecting trash. Join me on [Tumblr](http://flashthroughlight.tumblr.com/).


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for this chapter - someone has been murdered, but it is framed to look like a suicide. If this is something that you are uncomfortable with, please skip between “Watch your step.” and continue reading at “It’s time to go.”

Cases come and go; that was the nature of them. As he got older, Damian got more involved in the cases that his father and Jason conducted. It started gradually and one day his father turned to him and handed him a case on vanishing prostitutes to work on all by himself.

Damian worked on it tirelessly. Often spending all his free time either in the Cave or out on the streets to work on his very first solo case. He knew the importance of it. Not only because it was something that he needed to solve in a step towards assisting his father in his crusade, but also because it meant that he was getting more responsibility and that was the most important part.

Not only did it mean that his father believed in his abilities as a detective or as Robin, it also meant that his father trusted him. Of course, Damian didn’t conduct the case without any supervision at all. As much as it was an opportunity for him to show how much he’d grown over the years, his first solo case was also a test.

The reward when he managed to find out who was kidnapping the prostitutes and apprehend the perpetrator was that Robin was allowed to start flying solo.

With permission.

Damian had gone out by himself without supervision or explicit permission before. It’d gotten him in trouble as much as it’d worked in his favor.

Robin still patrolled with Batman and Specter often, but now that going out on his own was an option, Damian tended to take every chance that he could.

At fifteen all he wanted was to go out on his own. Damian began to realize that while he did want to take the mantle of Batman from his father when he was ready, it was imperative for him to set out on his own. There were many things that he could learn from his father and his brother, but the experience of being out on Gotham’s streets by himself was something else entirely.

Sometimes being on his own really aided in the activities of any particular night, but sometimes it was a detriment.

“How about we make the little birdy sing?”

“Good plan. What do you want to use?”

Damian grunted as he tugged on the restraints tying his hands together. A lapse in judgement while taking down some of Two Face’s thugs had landed him strung up from a fire escape.

“I dunno. Like a knife?”

“Do you have a knife on you?”

“No.”

“Then why suggest it?”

“For fuck’s sake, could you just make a decision?” Damian growled out. For once he’d encountered people that were actually capable at tying knots. As infuriating as that was – it wasn’t as bad as listening to the thugs try to think of what they wanted to do with him.

“Oi! We’re havin’ a civilized conversation here!” The taller thug stepped forward and rammed the butt of his gun into Damian’s stomach.

His breath escaped him, but Damian still had enough of a reflex to kick the tall thug under the chin and that sent him stumbling backwards.

Blood leaked out of the corner of the tall thug’s mouth. “I biw mah hounge!”

If only they hadn’t wrenched his shoulder during the fight. Damian knew that if he had full mobility, he’d be able to use his arms to lift himself up and perhaps even flip up onto the fire escape. While that was a nice idea, that just opened up the chance that the thugs were going to shoot at him, and they probably would. They were all trigger happy.

Another problem was that they were clustered around him and had eyes on him at all times. If they would just let themselves get distracted, Damian could swing his legs up and use the blade that he’d engineered into his shoe to slice the tow cable straps that they’d tied him up with.

Just his luck that he managed to let his guard down around competent thugs. Those were one in a million.

“That’s what you get for getting close to the birdy,” the balding thug said with a chuckle.

The tall thug spit blood at his companion’s feet. “Fah oeh.”

“Why dun we tie him up and bring him to the boss?” The only woman in the group was standing back, smoking a cigarette.

“The boss is meeting with Black Mask! Something got him pretty spooked the other night,” the balding thug said.

Damian would definitely look into that when he managed to get free. All he had to do was think of a viable option. After that he could knock them on their asses and grab the balding one and make him squeal about what Two Face was up to.

The woman raised an eyebrow. “The boss got spooked?”

“Yeah. Kenny knows all about it.” The balding thug pointed over to the dumpster. “Right Kenny?” There was no response and everyone’s attention immediately shifted over to the direction that the balding thug had turned to. “Kenny? Where’d you go?”

“Da fhu?”

The woman tossed her cigarette aside and pulled out her pistol. “Keep an eye on the bird,” she told them as she walked over to the dumpster.

Again, with the competent thugs. The tall man was glaring at Damian while the balding man was looking between him and the woman as she went to investigate where their fellow thug had gone. His disappearance could mean several different things, but not all of them were good. Damian just had to hope that it’d be good for him or good in the means of a distraction.

Nonetheless, he couldn’t just wait around for his chance to come up, especially if there was a chance that whoever had dealt with Kenny wasn’t on good terms with Robin, and, in Gotham, there was always a large chance that there was someone not on good terms with him.

The woman walked around the corner with her pistol out. “He ain’t here!”

“Don’t go too far! You don’t know what-”

Suddenly the woman fell back with a scream and she was pulled into the adjacent alley, still screaming for another second or two before she was cut off.

“Oh shit. Oh fuck.” The balding man pulled out his semi-automatic and walked forward until the tall man grabbed onto his jacket to stop him. “I think I’ve seen horror movies like this.”

“Lesh go. Leaf da burd,” the tall man said.

“You’re right. This isn’t worth it.” The balding man scowled at Damian before he started backing up towards the exit of the alley, away from the direction where his fellow thugs had been taken. A can clattered over the ground when he kicked it accidently and the man jumped, turning to shoot the can.

“How terrifying,” Damian drawled out.

“Shut the fuck up, you stupid kid!” The balding man turned back to him and stalked forward, pressing the muzzle of the gun against Damian’s chin.

Damian hissed under his breath. The muzzle was still hot and he tilted his head back further to get away from the metal, lest he be burned. That would be a wound that would be more troublesome to deal with and wait for it to heal than anything else. It’d just be another one that was hard to explain away.

The man shook his head. “I’m not gonna waste time on you. Barns had the right idea.” He turned to where his friend had last been standing and started looking around frantically but the other thug wasn’t there anymore. His head whipped around, looking around the alley with his gun at the ready.

“You’re looking in the wrong direction,” Damian told him.

“Shut up! Shut up, shut up, shut up!” The muzzle turned towards him again and, in that instant, the person that Damian spotted lurking on the rooftop came down, landing right on top of the balding man. It all went by so quickly that he hadn’t even had the chance to shoot the gun.

“Really living up to the Robin name, aren’t ya, kid?” Specter asked as he took apart the semi-automatic weapon. He chucked the pieces into the dumpster, pocketing the magazine and the springs so the weapon was useless. With a sigh, he stood in front of Damian with his hands out. “Let’s get you down.”

Damian planted his boot on Specter’s chest, feeling the slightest bit of glee when Specter scowled down at the boot as if it offended him. “I can do it myself, and I’m not a child anymore.”

Specter took a step back, holding his hands up to show Damian that he wasn’t going to try anything. “Just looking out for ya.”

Gritting his teeth against the pain in his shoulder, Damian swung his legs up and used the blade in his boot to cut the ties loose. He grabbed the edge of the fire escape, but trying to hold himself up just caused more pain in his shoulder and Damian fell on his ass. With a groan, Damian rubbed at his shoulder. Hopefully he hadn’t pulled anything; he should’ve just let himself fall. “Thanks for catching me, _Jason_ ,” Damian said.

“No names in the field, plus you told me that you could do it yourself.” Jason put his hands on his hips and just watched as Damian got back up.

Damian couldn’t believe Jason sometimes. He tended to take things too literally and then make a joke out of it. “I should kick your ass.”

“Angry people are not always wise,” Jason quoted.

“I’ve heard that one before.” Of all the times for Jason to be prattling out useless words, he decided to do it now. Although Damian never thought that Jason’s timing was good.

“The bird doth protest too much, methinks.”

Damian walked over and slapped Jason’s chest. The jacket provided too much armor and all that Damian accomplished was hurting his hand, while Jason laughed at his attempt. It was always a mystery to Damian how someone like Jason could be so crude and brutish, but also incredibly well read. After all of these years, Damian was able to recognize most, if not all, of the quotes that Jason threw out at him, but that didn’t change the exasperation that he felt when Jason kept throwing the same quotes at him time and time again.

“Specter, status report,” Batman said over the comms.

Jason stopped laughing and it was right back to business. “Robin secured. I had to help him a little.” He winked at Damian.

“You’re both needed on 54th street. Brown apartment building, second floor. You’ll know which window.” Batman’s comms clicked off after that.

Specter pulled his grapple gun out of his jacket, shooting up at the roof of the building to their right. “Up we go.”

Damian grabbed his grapple as well and went after Specter. They travelled over the rooftops together, leaping between gaps and swinging across the city as they got closer to Old Gotham. He at least had the benefit of his cape to assist with jumping to lower buildings, but Specter, with just his jacket, needed to use his grapple or the environment to keep up with him.

Not that it caused any issues or hindered him in any way. He’d grown up in Gotham and knew every inch of her, sometimes even more than Batman did, and his knowledge had proved valuable again and again. Not only that, but it showed just how tenacious Jason could be.

At first, Damian hadn’t liked the cape either, but he’d grown to like it. Not only was it a big help in mobility, but he could use it in battle to disorient enemies. When Damian asked Jason exactly why he’d left the cape behind, all Jason had said was that he didn’t like the drag or the snagging.

Everything has its pros and cons.

As they neared 54th street, Damian could hear sirens going off in the distance and they sounded like they were getting closer. In response, he started running faster.

It was a windy night, so Damian easily spotted the window that they needed to go through. It was the only one on the east side that was open. Every other tenant had closed their windows to keep the wind out for the night. He reached the window first and climbed through, Specter close behind him.

“Watch your step.” Batman came in from another room, his fingers up by the side of his cowl.

The apartment was quiet and the smell of metal hung in the air. Damian immediately recognized it, following the distinct smell into the room that his father had come out of. The water in the tub was stained a deep red and it slowly streamed over the edge, spreading the colour further out over the room. Her arm was hanging out of the tub, the blood drop on her fingertips suspended in motion due to coagulation. “She’s been dead for a few hours.”

“Oh fuck, is that who I think it is?” Specter asked.

“If you’re thinking Tracey Adams, then you’re right.”

“Fuck. I can’t believe it.”

The woman had been on the news quite often in the past few months. Damian knew a lot about her. “She was campaigning for the bus routes in East End. About keeping both the drivers and passengers safe.”

“Two days ago, an anonymous source released the reason why,” Batman said. “A bus driver had passed her stop on purpose because he noticed armed men sneaking up to her and they sexually assaulted her.”

The leather of Specter’s gloves creaked as his fists balled up at his sides. “There’s no way she’d commit suicide because of that.”

“I don’t think she did,” Damian said after he surveyed the bathroom. He pointed over at the soap dish on the edge of the tub, the dish itself was starkly clean in comparison to the rest of the items close to Tracey’s body, and there was one item on it that stood out.

“Fuck!” Specter slammed his fist against the doorframe, ignoring the look that Batman sent him. “Damned feathers! Why? I don’t get it!”

Damian had almost forgotten about the feather murderer. In the years since the first case that his father had clued him in on, there hadn’t been a single murder with the same call sign, he was certain that they would’ve known otherwise. “They’ve been quiet for nearly four years.”

Batman nodded as he used the computer on his gauntlet, no doubt pulling up the information on the most recent murder. “The longest they’ve ever been silent. This assassination was made to look like a suicide and it’s very convincing.”

He walked around Batman, deciding to ignore Specter until he managed to get hold of himself. The pieces were put together very well. The apartment itself showed no signs of struggle or that anyone besides Tracey had been inside. There was a razor on the bathroom floor with blood on it, to indicate that she had sliced her own forearms, even though Damian was sure that she hadn’t done it willingly. The cuts themselves were crooked and there were shallow cuts around the one that had dug deeply into her veins.

Not that any of that mattered. Any medical examiner would just note it down as hesitation as Tracey took her own life. Marks like that weren’t uncommon at all, in fact, it would be even stranger if they hadn’t been present at all. This murderer – or assassin as Batman had called them – was very good at killing. Down to even the slightest details.

Damian didn’t know if he should be impressed or reviled by the blatant lack of empathy. “A textbook example of someone with antisocial personality disorder,” he said.

“There’s just one questions that I’ve never managed to answer.” Batman walked over to Damian and he gestured towards a note on the dining table. “It’s how they pick their victims.”

“They take sick pleasure from this kind of shit, that’s why,” Specter growled out.

There was no doubt in Damian’s mind that the note was written in Tracey’s hand, she was likely forced to write it while her killer watched. Batman was right in calling this an assassination. This could hardly be called an act of passion, as it was clearly premeditated. Either that, or the killer was just that proficient in the way that he murdered people.

This being an assassination made sense, especially considering the other cases that his father had told him about. Tracey Adams had been trying to change Gotham, but someone clearly felt like what she was doing was hindering them in some way. But why mask it as a suicide? To discredit her and her ideas? To label her as a raving victim who was only acting in her own best interest? The question is why her campaign would be in the way of someone else.

That’s what it all came down to. How the victims were chosen. The most important part of the puzzle.

Why was someone like Tracey Adams assassinated by the same person who also put criminals down?

How did it all tie together?

Red and blue lights shone through one of the windows. “It’s time to go.” Batman made sure that they hadn’t left anything behind and that he’d made sufficient documentation of the crime scene before he exited through the window they all came through, Specter and Robin close behind him.

Back at the Batcave, they all huddled around the computer as they went through the most recent feather assassinations.

“Adams wanted to make public transit safer for patrons in the East End, McKellar was a known weapons smuggler, Franklin was making noise about advocating for the removal of the Public Works Directors, Alverez was the Economic Development Director, and Kozlov had been negotiating with Falcone about division of the city between the Italian and Russian mobs,” Bruce listed off.

“No wonder no one’s been able to catch this lunatic. There’s barely any connection between the victims and each murder is different from the other.” Jason sat on the table, his arms crossed over his chest.  

It was the smallest of leads that they were working on. The feathers. A feather had been found at every crime scene. They were not always in plain sight, but they were always placed near the bodies. If the feathers were so important, why weren’t they on display? Why weren’t they always placed on the body? The murderer, or assassin if his father was to be correct in his assumptions, had a clear goal and always knew where to find their victims at their most vulnerable.

None of it made sense.

Damian didn’t pay attention to his father and Jason as they spoke. There was something that they were missing. The most important piece of it all. “What was the first murder?” This killer had to have started at one point.

“That’s just the thing… I don’t know,” Bruce admitted.

“What?” Jason’s brows furrowed as he leaned forward. “How can you not know? You look like you’re on top of every one of these feather killings.”

“I found records of killings that go back to the end of the nineteenth century,” Bruce said.

Damian couldn’t believe that. “Impossible.”

“Unless it’s passed down through the family.” It was obvious that his father had thought about this theory a lot.

Jason laughed, tapping his hands on the table as he pushed himself up. “Hey kids! Wanna pass down murder as our hobby?”

“You sound like Grandfather,” Damian muttered and Jason immediately stopped laughing.

“I didn’t mean that,” he said.

Damian shook his head. He had stopped putting importance about what his Grandfather thought years ago. “Do not dwell in the past, do not dream of the future, concentrate the mind on the present moment.”

A hand rested on his head and ruffled his hair. “Buddha, huh? Look at you, throwing out quotes. Maybe I’m rubbing off on you after all.”

“-Tt.” Damian lowered his head and moved away from Jason before he attempt to do more than just ruin Damian’s hair. While his older brother wasn’t the touchiest person, if he got into the mood then it was hard to escape him. It was better not to encourage him.

“Master Damian’s quote is accurate. Turn on the Channel Five news.” Alfred quickly walked over to them.

Bruce swiped the case files away and turned on the television inside.

“This is Susan Strong, reporting from outside the Iceberg Lounge, a nightclub run by Oswald Cobblepot, also known as The Penguin, who was found dead inside of his office along with at least fifteen other armed employees.”

“What the fuck?” Jason muttered.

“You can say that again,” Bruce turned up the volume.

“It appears that there was an altercation in the club in the early hours of the morning. First reports were of shots being fired and later there was a 911 call about someone being in the club and killing everyone. When the police arrived, the club was silent and all its occupants were found dead, with no sign of the perpetrator. Further information has currently not been released.”

For a moment, it was completely silent in the Cave. No one had any words on what they’d just heard. Penguin had been a thorn in their sides for years now and for him to so suddenly be dead, it was more than a shock. He’d lived through so much and the Iceberg Lounge was his stronghold. The safest place for him to be. A location that even they sometimes had issues getting in to. How had someone gotten into the Lounge and managed to kill Cobblepot and his guards?

“What the fuck.” Jason was the first to break the silence. “Who d’ya think could’ve done it? Two Face? Black Mask?”

“We’d know. Sionis and Dent would make sure that we knew.” That was the way that the Gotham organized crime worked. If something this big was going to happen, someone was going to claim it. Damian just didn’t understand why they wouldn’t have heard of any dissidence between the different heads. “Dent’s lackeys said that he was spooked by something.”

“It couldn’t have been this. It was too early,” Jason said.

“Perhaps he knew somehow? We must track him down to see what he knows!” If there was any connection or any chance that Dent knew anything about who’d killed Cobblepot, they had to go.

The screen flashed and turned green. “B, I’ve got the crime scene photos.”

“Thanks Oracle.” Bruce moved everything to the second screen, so they could see Barbara when she activated her camera. Her hair was mussed and she had deep bags under her eyes. It was likely that she’d either just woken up again or had stayed up all night.

“I’ve gotta warn you, they’re pretty gruesome,” Barbara warned them.

Bruce opened the first picture of the main entrance, which was in disarray, but there were no signs of anything other than a fight. “Nothing we haven’t seen before.”

Jason and Damian moved in closer to look at the pictures as Bruce went through them. The actual lounge itself looked like a disaster had come through. The furniture was flipped and tossed to the side, riddled with bullet holes and some covered in blood. There were a few bodies around, but the most notable part was a group of men huddled together in the middle of the room. They were all slumped together, some still holding their guns, others with their mouths open as if they’d been screaming before they died.

“They pulled together to search for the assailants,” Jason said. “Whoever was in there really got them on edge.”

“They’re pulled together like they would be when they’re encountering one of us.” Damian had seen it often. Thugs would group together in a circle with their backs towards each other so they weren’t open and could look around a room.

“All of the injuries and killing blows were either blunt force or sharp objects. They’d been shooting around in bursts.” Bruce used the cursor on the screen to show the points of interest.

Jason started tapping his foot on the ground as he looked at the picture. “Someone who uses the shadows and avoids sightlines.”

From there they started listing possible culprits. The League didn’t have any reason to want Cobblepot dead. Any other members of Gotham’s organized crime wouldn’t hire someone outside of their own circle to kill Cobblepot, because that would be way too personal.

There could be a new player in town, which was never good news. That meant that they had their own agendas and were completely unknown.

“They just uploaded photos of Cobblepot’s body. Sending them now,” Barbara said.

“He was asphyxiated.” The picture showed Cobblepot sitting in his chair like nothing was wrong at all, like he was about to get up and got out for the night. It would’ve been a regular scene if not for the cyanosis, Tardieu spots present on his neck, and the fact that his scarf was tied way too tight around his neck. The room itself was untouched in comparison to the rest of the club. Almost as if Cobblepot had resigned himself to the fact that he was going to die.

There was only one part that stood out. “Since when does Cobblepot have a feather on his top hat?”

“How much do you want to bet that it matches the other ones we’ve found?” Jason asked.

“There’ve never been two killings in one night.” Bruce’s expression remained unchanged, but Damian could tell by the way his fists clenched that he was unsettled by what they were seeing.

“Perhaps there are more than one, like you suggested. A parent and a child? It is highly possible that there were two people present at the Iceberg Lounge,” Damian said. He’d seen many things in his life and, while not that hard to believe considering where he grew up, it was improbable that a single person had caused so much death and destruction.

“This is our highest priority case. If you’re patrolling alone, there are mandated hourly check-ins. If there is so much as a glimpse or any information regarding either the killer or any of the assassinations we all need to know immediately. No exceptions,” Bruce said. “For now, it’s time for you two to go upstairs.”

Damian’s heart sunk at those words. He was suddenly reminded of the first time that they’d come across one of the feather killings early on in his career as Robin. “But father!”

Jason placed his hands on Damian’s shoulders. “Time to go, kiddo.”

“No! I will not be excluded again! I can help, father! I swore that I would fight together with you against crime and corruption! Did those words mean nothing to you?” Damian tried to swat Jason’s hands away from him, but their grip just got tighter to the point that it almost hurt.

Bruce shoved the chair away and it clattered to the ground by the force of it. “Don’t you dare use those words.”

Damian inhaled sharply and he held his breath for a few seconds before he exhaled. He couldn’t let himself get too carried away, lest he be completely removed from every part of the investigation. “You had us say them, but you never say what they truly mean. Just like that.” Damian gestured towards the Robin costume. He caught his father lingering in front of the case before, staring at the emblem.

“You should know what they mean,” his father said.

“I know what they mean, but you’ve never once said what they mean to _you_ ,” Damian spat out before he stepped back against Jason.

Luckily, the older man got the hint and steered Damian back upstairs. As they walked Damian waited for his father to say something, for him to call them back so he could explain, but he didn’t. Damian tried to ignore the way that his chest tightened.

“The old man is an asshole, for sure, but he means well. He’s just emotionally stunted,” Jason said as they arrived at Damian’s room.

“I know, but he is so difficult.” There were times where Damian didn’t know if his father meant well at all.

“He’s just scared, is all.”

Damian walked into his room and sat down on his bed. “So, you keep telling me. He’s scared of losing us.”

Jason closed the door behind him after he stepped into Damian’s room. His eyes were downcast as he sat down next to Damian. “Look… I don’t know more than you do, okay? Lord knows I’ve tried to crack that thick skull of his, but I haven’t gotten anything. All I remember is that he was strict and always keeping an eye on me, even when I was being a little shit. I think it’s because of how he lost his parents and he doesn’t want to lose more of his family.”

“The pain is too recent for it to be his parents.” His father’s oppressive protectiveness only ever reared up at times like this, where he thought that he was doing better keeping Damian, or even Jason, out of the loop to keep them safe. He’d even gone so far as to lock them up in the containment cells in the Cave once before. It was also almost always patrol or case related as well.

“All I know is that he lost some people before we came into the picture. I managed to come out of him raising me well enough, didn’t I?”

Besides Alfred, Jason was clearly the most well-adjusted of their family. Damian had heard the story countless times, about how Jason had lived on the streets until he’d tried to steal Batman’s tires and got caught. Now he was Bruce Wayne’s first son, a street kid adopted by one of Gotham’s elite. He’d excelled in school and university, showing all those naysayers just how wrong they were about him. He’d gone from being Robin to becoming Specter, building a new identity for himself from the ground up. He’d made Robin an entity to be feared, one that Damian had been hard pressed to keep while still maintaining his father’s will to not step out of line. Jason rose above all expectations and kept pushing every limit.

“I suppose that you turned out alright,” Damian muttered.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Jason bumped their shoulders together. “Just listen to his stipulations or it’ll lead to forced joint patrols or being benched.”

“Such is the boon of being Robin.”

“I know, Damian, I know.”


	3. Chapter 3

Damian listened to Jason for once and stayed on his father’s good side. There was no sense in gaining his ire at this point, as it would only lead to unnecessary tensions in a time where any distraction might lead to even worse situations.

He’d made a point of avoiding his father as much as possible while still adhering to the conditions that Bruce had set up. At home, it was much easier to duck away and avoid any kind of interactions with his father, but during patrol it was different. Damian was still allowed to patrol alone, but Batman and Specter had both increased their areas of patrol as to keep an extra eye on him. After his talk with Jason, Damian had an idea of what the purpose was, but it was sorely unnecessary. Although having overlapping patrol sectors was always better than being forced to patrol with someone else.

The city was understandably on edge. After such a public murder on one of the most well-known criminals in Gotham – and the fact that no one had stepped forward to claim it yet – everyone in the city was keeping an eye out.

Even their investigation had hit a halt. Batman had interrogated many of the other criminal element heads, but none of them knew anything that was of use. After Damian had mentioned that Two Face was apparently acting scared, they’d gone after him in a group and all the man had blubbered about was that he felt like he was being watched and that he’d spotted yellow eyes in the darkness.

Nothing substantial enough that they could use.

Two high profile murders in one day and then nothing for over a week. Batman was starting to get twitchy. He’d call in exactly on the hour mark for a report. Any suspicious activity was supposed to be called in straight away no matter how insignificant it seemed to be.

It was quite the set of rules, but ones that Damian could live with, for now.

Until they got to the bottom of this, they all had to make sure that they were safe.

Damian found patrol to be boring now. Many people were staying in during the night in fear, even the most hardened of criminals. Most of the rouge gallery had gone underground for now, waiting until either one of them was next, or Cobblepot’s killer was apprehended.

When he heard a man screaming, it was almost a relief. “Disturbance on Moore Street,” Damian called in.

“Investigate and report back,” Batman said.

“I’m ten minutes away if you need me,” Specter pitched in.

Damian swung between buildings and heard the man whimpering as he ran through the backlot of an apartment complex. “Acknowledged.”

He was about to jump down when a masked figure stepped out from the shadows, walking slowly and calm even as the man kept running. They were wearing a brown bodysuit, trimmed with gold. The only visible armor that Damian could see were the patterned vambraces the figure wore, but he couldn’t determine the exact detailing. Upon further inspection, he noticed that the figure wasn’t wearing a mask, but a full-on hood with goggles that looked almost avian in nature, as the piece between the eyes was formed like a beak.

A trashcan clattered as the man ran into it in his haste to get away from the figure and he stumbled to the ground. The figure strode towards the man and stood over him, now that the figure was closer Damian could see that they couldn’t be much taller than Damian himself was.

“P-please.” The man blubbered, holding up his hands. “I won’t… I won’t re-remove my support. I’ll pay double my contributions! You don’t have to do this.”

“Arnold Kuntz, the Court of Owls has sentenced you to die.” The figure pulled two knives from the strap crossing over their chest.

Damian leapt into action at hearing those words. He wasn’t about to let anyone be killed in front of him. He landed in between the hooded assassin and Kuntz.

“Robin! Robin, don’t let him kill me!” Kuntz crawled forward, grabbing onto Damian’s leg.

Damian fought back a scowl as he shook his leg and tried to push Kuntz off him. How unbecoming of anyone to allow themselves to be reduced to such a blubbering mess. There were only limits of idiocy that he’d allow himself to put up with. All the while he kept his eyes on the assassin, who hadn’t moved at all, they were just standing there with their arms at their sides and the throwing knives in their hands.

“You will have to go through me before you can get to him,” Damian said, already readying himself for any retaliation that might come.

The assassin stayed as cool as they had when they’d been stalking Kuntz. “You would interfere?”

Now that he was closer, Damian could pinpoint that the voice was male, flat in tone, but clear enough that Damian was fairly certain that he heard the slightest change in pitch.

“I would.” The assassin didn’t seem bothered by Damian showing up at all. It didn’t even look like that assassin’s gaze was on him, but on Kuntz the entire time, as if he was tracking his kill.

One of the knives twitched and Damian immediately lowered his center of gravity, bringing up his fists. The knife twisted in the assassin’s grip as he tilted his head to the side, the goggles finally pointed directly at Damian. “Very well. It won’t stop me.”

Damian gritted his teeth as the assassin took a step forward. He couldn’t mirror his move because Kuntz was still directly behind him, somehow, he needed to create more space between them, possibly lead the assassin away until back up came.

His mouth opened slightly when he realized that he hadn’t called back up at all. So stupid! He’d been so transfixed just watching the assassin that he’d completely forgotten to report back. “Batman-”

The instant that Damian spoke the assassin ran forward, knives at the ready. Damian lifted his arms and used the spikes on his gloves to deflect the first blow. Even with the additional padding Damian could feel the strength behind the strike. His comms lit up, both Batman and Specter calling in, but Damian had to focus on the fight. Being this close to Kuntz was dangerous and the imbecile hadn’t run off yet.

The assassin didn’t falter after the first strike failed to connect and he twisted his other arm to swipe along Damian’s chest. Damian bowed his back to keep the knife from connecting, but that opened him for a strike upside the jaw. He took a step back to catch his balance and growled as he pushed himself forward. He needed more space to work.

When Damian moved forward, the assassin flipped back, landing on his hands and bracing himself as he kicked out at Damian. Damian moved in, grabbing the assassin’s foot before it could connect and twisted to get him off balance. Unperturbed, the assassin pushed himself up, trying to hook his foot around Damian’s neck.

“Robin, look out!” Kuntz calling out threw him guard and Damian cried out as the assassin used the claws on his gloves to cut Damian’s arm, easily going through the reinforced material.

With his grip weakened, Damian had to let go and put space between them. He could already feel the blood dripping down his arm on the inside of the sleeve.

The assassin didn’t give him a chance to breathe, ducking in low and immediately going for more slices. Damian kicked out and knocked one of the knives out of his hands. He spun and caught the assassin in the shoulder with another kick. Damian blocked the next punch, immediately striking out with a growl. His fist connected with the assassin and the other stumbled back.

“You simply delay the inevitable!” The assassin called out, throwing the other knife.

Damian could hear the knife whizz by as he twisted to the side. He ducked under the next strike and whirled his foot out, clipping the assassin’s temple. Even though the blow connected fully, the assassin didn’t react other than his head whipping to the side. Then the assassin jumped. For a split second, it looked like he was going to leap over Damian, but he planted his feet on Damian’s shoulders and the force sent Damian falling to the ground, the assassin still on top of him. He managed to get in a solid strike to the assassin’s side, but that didn’t stop the other from grabbing Damian’s head and slamming it into the ground.

His head was still reeling when a finger dug into the cuts in his arm and Damian shouted out in pain before he could stop himself.

“You’d be dead now if you were my true target.” The assassin leaned in close and Damian could see his reflection in the goggles. The assassin’s head snapped up when Kuntz cried out again. He pulled a knife from his thigh holster and threw it, but not before Damian pushed up and headbutted him.

There was a scream of pain, but that was a good thing. It meant that the assassin hadn’t gotten to Kuntz yet. Damian grabbed the other’s wrist and twisted it, hearing the bones snap. Again, the assassin didn’t react at all to the injury, only rolling away and grabbing one of the knives off the ground.

Damian’s head pounded as he pushed himself up. Kuntz was on the ground, clutching at the knife embedded in his shoulder. Damian was sure that if he hadn’t messed with the trajectory that it would’ve ended up in his heart instead.

“You’re outmatched.” The assassin held his arms out to the side and Damian’s eyes narrowed as he looked at the wrist he’d just broken. The hand wasn’t limp at all. How was he holding it up properly?

“You’re delusional,” Damian spat out.

“So, you think.” The assassin pulled out multiple knives and threw them at Damian, who ducked behind a dumpster to avoid them.

“N-no! Don’t!”

Damian’s eyes widened as the assassin ran towards Kuntz, his arm already coming down to stab the man. How had he moved so fast? Damian pulled out a batarang, but wasn’t fast enough. The batarang hit the wall and clattered uselessly to the ground as the assassin stabbed down into Kuntz’s chest before he lifted the blade and stabbed the man again.

Kuntz’s screams petered off with every shout and Damian couldn’t do anything but watch as he went limp with one last gurgle. The man had reached out, thinking that Robin would save him and now he was dead.

The assassin pulled out the knife he’d used to stab Kuntz and the throwing knife still in the body’s shoulder. He then rooted around and pulled out Kuntz’s wallet, going through it and tossing out cards and small change.

What was he trying to gain? Just sitting there on the body as he pulled out a wad of cash from the wallet like nothing had happened. Like he hadn’t just ruthlessly stabbed a man while he was down on the ground.

Damian’s blood boiled at the blatant disregard. He shouted as he pushed himself up, grabbing another batarang. The assassin quickly got up at well, knocking away Damian’s punch. Damian gritted his teeth, fighting through the pain as he kept trying to connect with the assassin. They traded blows, consistently blocking each other. For the first time in a long time, Damian wished he had his sword on hand to show the assassin just what a blade master fought like. Throwing knives wouldn’t even compare.

With a grunt, Damian managed to kick the assassin’s knee, throwing him off balance. He quickly followed up with a slash to the assassin’s face, the edge of the weapon slicing through the hood and cutting the assassin’s face.

The assassin hissed under his breath and struck out again. Damian was barely able to deflect the blow and the knife cut deeply in his side. The next hit was aimed at the slices on his arm again, making it go limp from the pain.

Shit. If he didn’t get away, there was a chance that he could die. Damian ducked down, grabbing some gravel from the ground and threw it at the assassin’s face. It was a dirty trick that he’d learned from Jason, but it distracted just long enough to Damian to grab his grapple and escape to the top of the building.

Damian’s aim was off and he smacked against the edge of the roof. He grunted as he pulled himself up onto the roof, rolling over to the side to get as much distance between him and the assassin as he could, but pain from the cut in his side made him dizzy and Damian had to stop, resting on his knees as he reached around his torso to press his hand against the wound.

He barely had a moment to take a look at how deep the wound was before he heard feet land on the roof. Too light to be either Batman or Specter.

[Damian looked up and the assassin was crouching down in front of him, resting his elbows on his knees while still holding the knives, which were dripping blood. The only difference was that he’d pulled his hood off and pushed his goggles up on his forehead. There was blood on his face from where Damian had slashed him, but there was no cut, no wound or trace at all.](https://pentapoda.tumblr.com/post/165661595323/a-batfamreversebigbang-prompt-for/)

“-Tt. Get it over with,” Damian gritted out. The way he was right now, on his knees and slumped forward, he was no match for the assassin.

“Why did you try to stop me?” The assassin asked. Now that his vision was clearing up, Damian noticed that the man’s eyes were yellow and his pupils were slitted. He couldn’t even call the assassin a man. He had to be Damian’s age or a year older at most.

“Does it matter? I failed, didn’t I?” He’d failed and the only thing that he could suddenly think about was that his father was going to be so disappointed in him.

The assassin tapped the butt of the knife against his calf. This close up, Damian was able to see all the details on the bodysuit, from the feathered shoulder pads, to the owl motif on his vambraces. “I told you that it was inevitable.”

Damian’s eyes went to the boy’s wrist. He’d heard it crack, he’d felt the bones give way under his grip. Some sort of meta healing? That had to be it. His wrist didn’t appear to be injured in any way and his face held no evidence that he’d ever been cut. The blood on the assassin’s face could easily have been written off as that of his victim’s.

Suddenly the assassin stood up, looking over at one of the buildings to the side. “The Court had not ordered you to die. You will live, for now.”

He stared at the blood pool in front of him that had dripped off the knife as the assassin ran off. If Damian were resilient like his father, he would have pulled a tracker from his belt and tried to connect it to the assassin, but all he could think about was how the hand holding his side was getting slicker and slicker. How deeply had the knife managed to cut him?

Why was Arnold Kuntz assassinated? What was he talking about when he spoke of money? And who was the Court of Owls? Was it possible that they were the ones connected to the feather killings? It was definitely probable as the assassin had feathers on his suit. Was this boy the one who’d been killing all of those people? Slit Adams’ wrists and asphyxiated the Penguin with his own scarf? If he’d been anyone else, Damian might’ve doubted it, but he’d seen enough and been through enough to know that it was very easy to be lethal at a young age.

“Robin!” Grey boots came into his line of vision. No, not grey, but ash grey. The assassin must have heard Specter coming. That was why he’d left. “Hey, kid, I need something out of you.” Specter snapped his fingers in front of Damian’s face and Damian grimaced, ducking his head down. The sound made his ears ring.

“Desist…” Damian muttered.

“Good enough. B, we’re going to need emergency evac and get Agent A to prep the medical bay,” Specter said.

Damian was aware that he was picked up and there was head rush as Specter jumped down into the alley. From the hiss under his breath, Damian was sure that he’d found Kuntz. He lifted his head to look at the body. Was there a feather?

He wasn’t given enough time to look as the Batmobile came up and he was quickly put inside. Somewhere along the way, his eyes slid shut and he heard his father telling him not to go to sleep, but it was hard not to between the blood loss and the likely concussion.

“My word, Master Damian!”

Somehow Damian was carried to the medical bay without noticing. That was strange. Damian barely felt the needle that must have administered morphine, and he felt weightless after a few seconds, drifting as he didn’t even feel the slightest twinge or discomfort anymore.

He had to blink a few times when it felt like he was coming back to the ground, the faintest feeling of his left side burning pulled Damian out of the haze again. The first thing that caught his eye were a pair of feet resting on the edge of his bed. It was easy to recognize who it was, Damian had seen those socks before. In fact, he’d been the one to get them. He’d asked Jason what he wanted for Christmas and Jason had told him to get him socks or something, so Damian had. They were neon colored monstrosities, but Jason wore them anyways. He claimed that he got a hoot out of them.

Following Jason’s legs, Damian saw that he was asleep in a chair next to the bed. His mouth was open and he was snoring, but there was a book on his chest and a blanket draped over him.

Damian lifted his head and looked around. Just from the surrounding area, he wasn’t sure what time it was or how long it’d been since he’d been brought back to the cave. However, if the way his side was hurting was any indication, Damian could deduce that it had been a few hours at least, so it was likely morning. No wonder Jason had fallen asleep.

There was one person that wasn’t sleeping though. “Father?” Damian licked his lips. The ticking of the keyboard in the background stopped and not a few seconds later, heavy footsteps walked over to him. His father appeared on the same side that Jason was resting and he placed a hand on Damian’s head, brushing back the hair on his forehead.

“It’s good to see you awake, Damian,” Bruce said, keeping his voice soft as to not disturb Jason.

His eyes fluttered shut at the gentle touch. It wasn’t often that his father was so tender with him. This only happened when he was severely injured, so that must be the case. Now that Damian was waking more, he felt the needle in his left arm and the tightness of the bandages around his arm. “Water?”

His father pulled away and Damian was almost tempted to call him back when his hand left as well. The only consolation was that he came back with water and held it while Damian sipped it through the straw.

Damian pulled away with a gasp. He wanted to drink more, but knew that if he tried to gulp the water down that he’d only succeed in making himself cough. “Injury status?” Damian asked instead.

“A minor concussion, about six stitches on each of the slices on your left arm, and about thirteen in your side. You lost quite a bit of blood, so Alfred put you on a blood transfusion,” Bruce listed off. “If you’re hurting again, I’ll ask Alfred for some acetaminophen.”

The pain in his side was more of a burn, so Damian shook his head. He’d only take the painkillers when he was in a greater amount of pain. “The victim?”

“I wanted to discuss who attacked you first.”

“The victim,” Damian stressed.

His father sighed. “Arnold Kuntz, chairman of a large construction company. Our priority was getting you back here, so I couldn’t speak with the GCPD. They’ve ruled it a robbery gone too far.”

A robbery? Damian couldn’t believe it. Surely, they were able to identify the angle of impact on each of the stab wounds and realize that they weren’t consistent with their theory. Surely, they knew that the size and shape of the wounds weren’t consistent with a regular knife that a robber might walk around with. Surely, they were smarter than that. Unless they weren’t. Unless the circumstantial evidence around the body showed otherwise. He thought back to the way the assassin had grabbed Kuntz’s wallet and riffled through it. He wanted it to look like a robbery that turned deadly. Just like how he’d made Adams’ death look like a suicide and countless others.

“What is the Court of Owls?” Damian recalled looking down at the assassin and Kuntz when they first came into view. How the assassin had said that this Court had sentenced Kuntz to death.

“The Court of Owls?” Bruce’s breath hitched and his eyes widened.

“Beware the Court of Owls, that watches all the time, ruling Gotham from a shadow perch, behind granite and lime,” Jason spoke up as he rubbed at one of his eyes. “They watch you at your hearth, they watch you in your bed, speak not a whispered word of them, or they’ll send The Talon for your head.”

“It’s nothing but a nursery rhyme designed to scare children.” Bruce said.

Jason pulled his feet off the bed and sat up. “I dunno, old man. There are people who are really scared of them.”

“They don’t exist.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I looked for them!” His father’s voice was raised. “I looked for them and didn’t find them. They don’t exist.”

The reaction they that got out of his father was interesting, as Damian had rarely ever see him get flustered so quickly. However, he’d never heard of this Court of Owls before and now he was intrigued. What was it about them that made his father react in such a way? “You’ve looked for them before?”

“Indeed, he has.” Alfred walked over to the other side of Damian’s bed, checking on his fluids. “Young Master Bruce once believed that it was the Court of Owls that had ordered his parent’s death and he went to great lengths to find them.”

“Alfred,” Bruce growled out.

The older man didn’t even react to Bruce’s tone and carefully pulled out the IV needle. “He was quite the detective, even then, but his searching proved fruitless. While there are legends about the Court, there has never been evidence that they truly exist.”

“How’d you come upon the name? I haven’t heard it since I was on the streets,” Jason said.

“That’s what I heard. ‘The Court of Owls has sentenced you to die’. That’s what he said.”

“Who?”

“The assassin. This supposed Talon.” Now his outfit made a lot more sense. The brown body suit with the owl motifs and feather and the avian shape of the goggles that the assassin wore.

“Can you tell us anything about him?” His father asked.

Damian shifted to get in a more comfortable position and winced. Several hands shot out to keep him in place and, while annoying, seeing the concern touched Damian. “He moved fast and hit harder than he should’ve been able to. He was very agile as well, easily dodging and moving about. He has a healing factor. I broke his wrist and cut his face, but not even a minute later he’d healed. I thought I was fighting a man, but he’s my age.”

“Is he the one responsible for all of the other assassinations?” Bruce asked.

Jason slapped Bruce’s chest. “Does it look like he had time to ask?”

“I’m simply trying to cover every aspect! The more we know, the better,” Bruce argued.

“Quite possibly. Before he died, Kuntz said that he wouldn’t remove financial backing like he’d claimed he would prior.”

His father nodded, no doubt keeping that in mind. It was likely that he was going to investigate Kuntz’s financial history after this. “So, Kuntz was alive when you arrived?”

Damian immediately looked away from his father’s gaze, hiking up his right shoulder in an attempt to shield himself. He’d expected that someone would ask, but the way the question had come out, it sounded more like an accusation than anything else.

“It’s time for you to lay off, Bruce.” Jason grabbed Bruce’s shoulder and tried to pull him back.

“I’m asking him a question!”

“That wasn’t a request.” Jason and Bruce glared at each other for a few seconds before Bruce pushed Jason’s hand off him and walked away, going back to the computer, if the clacking of the keyboard was any indication. “It’s okay, kiddo. I’m gonna catch this son of a bitch and deal with him.”

“You couldn’t deal with a mouse,” Damian grumbled. Jason didn’t have to stand up for him like that.

“I can if they screwed with my baby brother. Now you need to rest. I’m gonna need your help on this,” Jason said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am a dumpster collecting trash. Join me on [Tumblr](http://flashthroughlight.tumblr.com/).


	4. Chapter 4

If Damian thought that his father was insufferable before, he’d been proven wrong. Never before had his father kept him under his wing so fiercely before. In the two weeks that it took for Damian to recover for the most part, his father had been with him as much as he could. Instead of Alfred bringing him to school and picking him up, it would be his father. If Damian wanted to go out, his father would come as well. He checked in on Damian when he was doing homework, drawing, reading with Jason, and even when he thought that Damian was sleeping. Every night his father would open his door. If it was to make sure that Damian was still there or still in one piece, Damian didn’t know. All he knew what that all the attention was getting under his skin.

Even when he was permitted to go out on patrol again, Robin was always with Batman. He was barely even allowed to cross the street without Batman. It got on Damian’s nerves, but he knew that it would die down.

This was his father’s way of worrying about him. The intensity of how he was dealing with it might’ve been connected to the story that Alfred had told them the morning after Damian had been bested by the Talon; the story where a young Bruce Wayne had sought for the Court of Owls to no avail.

His father was constantly claiming that there was no such thing as the Court of Owls, but once he had believed in them. Once he had gone out of his way to try and find them and he’d failed. Perhaps his father had looked for them again after he’d become Batman, but he’d clearly never found any further evidence.

“Robin, it’s good to see you around again,” Commissioner Gordon told him the first night that he’d arrived with Batman to answer the Batsignal.

“I was indisposed,” Damian said.

Gordon nodded. “Still happy to see you back safe and sound, son.”

They worked with Gordon a lot in the following days. There was a drug trafficking ring that they were trying to pin down and, of course, the feather killings. Damian didn’t know how much information that Batman had shared with Gordon, but he highly doubted that the police commissioner had been told that they thought the Court of Owls might be behind it.

They still had to look credible, after all. They needed more evidence before they could present such a theory to Gordon.

Damian was tempted to just tell Gordon though. Perhaps the man knew something that they didn’t. It was always a possibility.

They were at the scene of another feather assassination, this time together with Gordon. They’d both received the call at around the same time and the commissioner had gone out of his way to meet them at the crime scene. Gordon treated it as any other murder, but Batman and Robin knew better. It’d only taken them seconds to find the feather off to the side of the body.

Batman spoke with Gordon while Damian stood to the side. All he could think about was that this was another victim because he hadn’t been able to stop the Talon a few weeks earlier. Time and time again he’d gone through the fight in his mind, thinking about what he could have done different and how he should have read the movements of the Talon.

Damian rubbed the back of his neck. His hairs were standing on end, like they often did when someone was looking at him. He looked around. Nobody in the room was looking at him, so he turned to the window instead. Damian narrowed his eyes as he scanned the surrounding area. Many of the windows on the building opposite were boarded up.

Still, Damian couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was actually looking at him. “Batman…”

“A moment, Robin.” Batman didn’t even look over at him, not even Gordon spared him a glance.

“-Tt.” Damian’s mouth turned up at the blatant disregard. If they weren’t going to listen, then he was going to investigate himself.

He climbed out onto the fire escape and climbed up a few sets of stairs until he got to the height of a drain pipe on the other building. Damian leapt over and clung onto the pipe, holding his breath as it creaked and groaned under his weight. When it didn’t snap, he stretched out his leg and placed his foot on the ledge of one of the windows.

Below him were the GCPD units, their lights still flashing and the sirens still on.

Damian grabbed onto one of the boards and pulled himself over. Now he had to find a way inside of the building. Hopefully there’d be a window that had loose boards. He shimmied across the ledges, testing out the boards as he went along. He got to one diagonally across the way from the room that Batman and the GCPD were in when he heard a sound coming from inside.

Damian paused and listened carefully. There were numerous different factors that could’ve caused the sounds. It could be the wind or vermin inside of the building.

He saw a shadow between the boards before two hands smashed through the wood and grabbed his neck. Damian immediately reached up with his own hands and held onto the opposing wrists and he was pulled into the room through the boards.

The light was low, but Damian knew who’d grabbed him. He tried to pull the wrists away until he was slammed down onto the floor. On his back once more.

At first Damian could only make out the shape of the Talon, but as the lights from the GCPD vehicles came around, they illuminated the room and Damian glared up at the Talon as he was pinned down. At first Damian hadn’t been sure if the assassin was really as strong as he remembered, but no amount of struggling or kicking budged the Talon.

The grip was tight enough to keep him down, but to cut off his air supply. Like this he couldn’t alarm Batman though. The boy that they were looking for was right across the street from the crime.

“You’ve returned quicker than I expected.” One hand pulled away and the Talon pressed it down on Damian’s side.

Damian gritted his teeth in an attempt to hold back a grunt of pain. Even though his stitches had come out a few days before, the area was still tender. The cut had been deep.

“You all heal so slowly.” The Talon leaned down closer to Damian. Try as he might, he couldn’t see the yellow eyes through the glass in the Talon’s goggles, even though he knew that they were staring at him.

He tried kicking out again, but the Talon just pressed down on his side harder and Damian let his leg fall back on the ground.

“It takes more than that to keep me down,” Damian spat out. He considered trying to break the Talon’s wrist again, but he had no idea how quickly the healing factor kicked in. There was also the ever present fact of the claws pressing against the side of his neck. Talon only needed to squeeze a little bit more and he’d be digging into Damian’s neck.

“I know something that will stop you,” the Talon said.

“And what’s that?”

The Talon leaned in even closer and Damian tried not to flinch when the mask brushed against his cheek. “Death,” he whispered into Damian’s ear.

He tilted his head away and hissed between his teeth when the hand tightened. “Why don’t you just kill me?”

“Why Robin?” The Talon sat up again, peering down at him like before.

“What?”

“It is a simple enough question. Why Robin?” He asked again.

That delved into information that Damian didn’t want to get in to. “Why Talon?”

“That is what they called me,” the assassin said.

“Who are they?” The hand tightened again and Damian started struggling to breathe.

The Talon let go when he noticed that Damian was choking and he slammed his hand on the floor next to Damian’s head, pulling out a knife from his side. “You did not answer my question.”

Damian coughed, tears in the corners of his eyes. “I asked you first.”

“Robin!” The shout came through his earpiece and from outside. The Talon sat up straight and looked at the window. Damian quickly spotted his opportunity, bringing both his hands up and slamming them against the Talon’s temples.

The assassin swayed to the side, giving Damian the chance to aim a chop at the Talon’s carotid artery to cut off blood flow. He rolled away and got up when the Talon fell to the ground on his side. “You’re not getting away this time.”

Damian pulled the cuffs out of his belt, managing to get it around one wrist when the Talon twitched back to life. He twisted his arm, even going so far as to pop his shoulder out of its socket, as he pulled away from Damian. The Talon rolled away, his arm still hanging limp at his side and the cuff dangling from his wrist. “Run back to Batman.”

So, the Talon could heal from cut and broken bones quickly, but a popped shoulder took longer. That meant that Damian had to aim for the joints. He took a step forward and the Talon back flipped through the open door. Damian quickly ran after him and turned into the hallway, but it was empty. He closed his eyes and listened, but he couldn’t even pick up the sound of the cuff clanging. How fast was the Talon?

“Robin! Report, now!” Batman called out again.

“I was investigating movement in the opposite building. I thought our killer might be here,” Damian said as he walked back to the window so he could wave over at Batman.

“What did I tell you about going off alone?” Batman glared at him from across the way.

“I asked, but you told me to wait. I wasn’t going to let an opportunity slip by.” Damian watched as Batman lowered his head and pinched the bridge of his nose.

He had a feeling that he was going to have a lecture when they got back to the cave.

\--

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.” Colin tilted his head back as he zipped his coat up as far as it could go.

Damian’s hands were in his jacket pockets and his arms were close at his sides. The weather report had said that it would be a relatively warm day for the start of autumn in Gotham, but the meteorologist had gotten it wrong, yet again. “Don’t exaggerate, Colin. We ran into each other on patrol three days ago.”

“I mean like this! Just the two of us, no masks, no bad guys,” Colin said. The tips of his ears were starting to get red. So much for a nice walk in Robinson Park before the weather truly got cold.

“-Tt. I’ve been preoccupied,” Damian said, wishing that he’d brought along a thicker jacket. Alfred had warned him, but Damian had just grabbed his light jacket instead.

“You mean you’ve been grounded.” Even though Colin’s mouth was mostly covered by the collar of his coat, Damian could tell that the other boy was smiling by the crinkles beside his eyes.

“As I said, preoccupied.” His father had not taken his taking off during patrol with the Talon on the loose lightly. He’d been strict about where Damian went and kept him in the manor most of the time, besides school and patrol on his side.

Damian hadn’t told his father that he’d actually run into the Talon and spoken to him. In hindsight, it was probably not the best decision, but he wasn’t about to incur more of his father’s ire after the fact. Telling him that he’d omitted something so vital and dangerous would only make things worse.

It was wonder upon wonder that Damian was actually allowed to go out today. It was only that Colin had taken the bus all the way out to Bristol County and walked to the manor that Bruce had relented and let Damian go out with him. Alfred had driven them into the city and told the boys that he would be back to pick them up in a few hours, giving them time to get lunch and walk around where they wanted.

Damian was thinking that going to the mall would’ve been a better idea, but only because of how cold the wind was. If the wind wasn’t blowing, he was sure that the day would’ve been nice and that they’d both enjoy the walk through the park more.

“Perhaps I should’ve brought Titus,” Damian said.

“How’s he been doing, by the way?” Colin asked.

Damian kicked at a rock. “His hip dysplasia has gotten worse. The vet says that he’s developed arthritis because of it.” Titus was getting old for a Great Dane at six years of age. Damian just hoped that he would live longer. He couldn’t even think of what it’d be like without his trusted companion.

“He’s a good dog.” Colin moved in closer and bumped their shoulders together. It was a little awkward because Colin had to bend down to do it. His growth spurt had hit early, while Damian was still waiting. He was certain that he’d grow to be close to the height of his father. Damian was the shortest in their family, with Jason only a few inches taller than him, then Alfred and then his father.

“I know he is.” They came upon a small café and Damian entertained the thought of getting something warm to drink, but apparently everyone else had as well, as the building was filled to the brim.

Colin caught his look. “I know the guy that runs the place. I can probably get us something pretty quickly.”

Damian pulled out his wallet and handed Colin a ten-dollar bill. “I’ll have a mocha, please.”

Colin grabbed the bill and walked toward the café with a grin. “Nonsense! You’re getting a hot chocolate and a pastry.”

He shook his head, moving off to the side of the walkway so he wouldn’t impede any other people walking around. For it being such a chilly day, there was a surprising amount of people. Damian watched them. There were people strolling along, others that were jogging, some had children, others had dogs. There was even one woman who was walking her cat.

Damian shivered as wind managed to go down the back of his neck. He was standing with his front facing the wind, how it was able to get there, Damian didn’t know.

Damian moved over to stand by a tree to shield himself from the wind. It was starting to die down a bit, but that didn’t change the fact that it was still cold. Hopefully the wind would go away completely, that way Damian would be able to warm up easily with the aid of his drink.

“I must say, I didn’t expect to see you here, Robin.”

His eyes widened at that voice. Not only because Damian recognized it, but because he’d been identified as Robin rather than Damian Wayne. He looked up into the tree, not bothering to look anywhere else.

There was a boy sitting in the tree, dressed in a hoodie with the hood up and glasses on. It was surreal to see the Talon out in daylight like this and in such a public area. Had he been following Damian around? He hadn’t felt any eyes on him at all today.

Still, Damian had to play it cool. “I’m sorry, my name isn’t Robin.”

The Talon fell back and hung from the branch with his legs. He was still a few feet above Damian, but this time Damian was able to pick up different features. Natural light, even though the sun was mostly blocked out by the clouds, showed more details on the Talon. His skin was lightly tanned and there were dark markings along his neck, almost looking like bulging veins that were crawling up to his face. Damian hadn’t seen those before.

“You can’t fool me. Your physique is the same and your voice is too. It’s surprising that no one else knows. It’s a simple deduction.” The Talon looked comfortable hanging from the branch. His face wasn’t even getting red, even though Damian knew that he bled. Why wasn’t any blood rushing to his face like it would with any other person?

“What are you doing here?” Damian wasn’t going to confirm what the Talon was saying.

“Stalking my prey.” The Talon smirked down at Damian, crossing his arms over his chest.

Damian glared at the Talon. He admitted that so easily. Who did this boy think he was? “I won’t let you.”

The Talon cocked his head to the side, the smirk growing. “What will you do, Robin? Will you fight me here?”

Damian paused and looked around. There were too many people in the park for him to even dare to fight the Talon. He’d just cause a scene, which would lead to people seeing Damian Wayne in the park. He ground his teeth. Public areas really were the worst.

“That’s what I thought,” The Talon said.

“I will find out who you’re going to kill next,” Damian growled out.

“Will you? There have been a hundred people in this particular area within the last hour. How will you know, Robin?” He asked.

Damian was sure there was a way. Perhaps he could get Oracle to look at the cameras in the area. Now that Damian knew what the Talon was wearing, he’d likely be able to spot him on any surveillance. In the daylight, the Talon wouldn’t be able to hide from them.

“Your friend is coming back. Don’t say anything.” The Talon grabbed onto the branch and he pulled himself up again, reaching up to climb higher into the tree. “If you do, I will find him.”

It was a threat that Damian couldn’t ignore. While Colin was more than able to handle himself, now that Damian knew that the Talon also walked around during the day, Damian couldn’t put his friend at risk like that. He turned towards the café, steadfastly ignoring the Talon as Colin walked over to him.

“There’s you are! I got you hot cocoa and a cherry Danish,” Colin said with a smile.

“Thank you, Colin. I appreciate it.” Damian took the drink and pastry from his friend. His one hand warmed up while the other stayed cold. He quickly swapped hands to share the warmth between them.

Colin sipped at his own drink, something very sweet by the smell of it, and stared at Damian.

Damian took a sip of his own drink and he relished in the feeling of the hot drink sliding down his throat into his stomach. In no time, it would warm his core. “What is it?”

“Is something wrong, Dames?” Colin asked.

Damian didn’t look back at the tree, even though he felt the eyes on his back. “There isn’t.”

“Right.” Colin sounded skeptical, but he pointed at the pathway. “Let’s keep walking. Maybe you’ll tell me when you warm up.”

“I told you, there’s nothing wrong.” Damian walked away from the tree and, luckily, Colin followed close behind. They were leaving the danger behind and his friend hadn’t even noticed. Perhaps Damian needed to help him train his senses more.

“If you say so.”

“I do say so.”


	5. Chapter 5

Damian spent much of his free time trying to figure out who the Talon had been stalking. He’d managed to speak with Barbara and get access to the CCTV cameras in the area around Robinson Park without much of a fuss, even when he’d asked her not to let his father know. She gave it to him with the promise that he’d let her know what was going on after he found what he was looking for.

Which was turning out to be easier said than done.

Despite it being daytime, the Talon still managed to move around nearly undetected, so he clearly had knowledge about where all of the cameras in the city were. As it stood, Damian managed to catch glimpses of him here and there, but it often wasn’t even something substantial.

He could count the number of times he managed to find a full shot of the Talon on one hand. Even then it was mostly just a quick glance and nothing indicative of what he was actually doing.

Instead Damian turned to the people that appeared in the frame along with the Talon. It was hard to pinpoint the identities of quite a few of the people, as Damian didn’t have access to any of the city’s citizen files, but he did come across a few familiar faces. Some of them were people from large corporations, others were informants, and some were even criminals that Damian recognized.

However, the biggest question was which of these people were the ones that the Talon had been watching. There were a multitude of different factors, considering the people that the Talon had assassinated up until this point. So far they could only tie him to three murders directly, not having evidence to indicate whether or not he’d killed others or been around for longer than this year, since there had been countless feather murders in the past.

Damian was disappointed that he didn’t have a camera or a clear look at the Talon’s face in the video footage. Perhaps he could’ve used it to cross reference their files. Then again, it was entirely possible that the Talon was a non-entity. It could be that he’d been trained by the Court from birth and there existed a chance that he wouldn’t appear in any records or even ever had his picture taken.

He had a few suspicions on who the Talon might be targeting and Damian ran a few searches through their system, but they’d take a while to complete, so Damian went out into the city again with Alfred. The older man needed to run some errands and allowed Damian to go out with him. He had to go into a parlor and told Damian that he could go and do whatever it was that he really wanted to do, so long as he told Alfred where he was going. The butler was too perceptive, but Damian told him anyways.

Once he was able to go off on his own, Damian made a beeline towards the tree that he’d encountered the Talon in. He climbed up and sat down on the branches to see what the visuals would be like. It had been a few days, so the tree had changed, as the colder weather was wreaking havoc on it and more leaves were falling off. It was only the start of October, yet the trees were already half bare.

 

 

The sightlines had changed, but Damian still looked around and took pictures of the area. If he could look at the pictures and pinpoint the approximate location, there was a chance that he’d be able to find some kind of similarities between the people he spotted in the surveillance and the places that the Talon had been. If he could even narrow down five individuals that the Talon might have been watching, it would be a big breakthrough.

Of course, the thought also crossed his mind that the Talon had been bluffing. Why was he in the park though? He wasn’t really the type to person who looked like he just walked around between the general populace.

“I think the botanical gardens would be a better place to take pictures. Don’t you?” A voice came from the base of the tree.

Damian sighed, lowering down his camera. “What are you doing here, Jason?”

“Can’t a guy visit his little brother?” Jason asked with a smile. They stared at each other for a solid minute before Jason broke. “Alfie sent me.”

“Of course he did.” Damian tucked his camera away and jumped out of the tree. He brushed himself off and looked at Jason, dressed to the nines in an expensive suit. “Didn’t you have appointments regarding some charity or scholarship program today?”

“I did.” Jason lifted his right hand and looked at his watch. “As a matter of fact, my day is booked full.”

“So what are you doing here?”

Jason winked at Damian. “My lunch appointment is taken up by you.”

Damian crossed his arms over his chest and he tapped his fingers against his elbow. “You’re not fooling me.”

Jason reached out, placing his hand on the back of Damian’s neck and squeezing slightly. “Neither are you. What are you up to?”

He allowed himself to be pushed towards the sidewalk. It’d be useless to try to run away from Jason at this point. It would just prove to him that Damian was doing something and he’d never leave Damian alone after that.

They left Robinson Park and walked into City Hall District. As they walked past City Hall itself, Damian wondered where Jason was leading him for lunch. Usually they went to small places, but Jason was taking him somewhere more public, although Damian couldn’t think of why.

They ended up at an East Indian restaurant that Damian had never been to before. Clearly Jason had though, because a woman came from the back to greet him. They greeted each other in what Damian thought was Bengali. Jason was able to speak a few words, but he had to think about them and his pronunciation wasn’t very well, judging by the look of amusement on the woman’s face. Damian wondered where Jason had picked the language up.

“She’s got a table free in a corner,” Jason said as the woman walked off. He waited for Damian to walk up to him before he followed her.

They sat down and Jason ordered water for the both of them and the woman left after handing them menus. Damian grabbed his and slouched in his chair, holding his menu up in front of his face. His mouth was already starting to water from the smells coming from the kitchen.

“I know you like the spicy stuff. There’s quite a few vegetarian options as well,” Jason said.

Damian didn’t move his menu. He could look at it himself. He didn’t need or want Jason to help him at all. This was all just a ruse for them to _talk_. Often Damian didn’t mind talking to Jason, but this was something that he wanted to do on his own. He’d encountered the Talon three times now, and each time he’d failed to do anything. Damian didn’t want to admit that and ask for help.

He didn’t like when the woman came back and took their orders, taking the menus away. Now that there wasn’t a barrier between him and Jason, Damian couldn’t ignore the way that Jason was looking at him. Damian pulled out his phone and opened some kind of game that Colin had installed on it once. It didn’t interest Damian, but it was something to do and it wasn’t like he could look at his camera, because Jason would just ask more questions.

In a way, being confronted by Jason was almost worse than being questioned by Alfred. While it felt chastising for Alfred to approach you, Damian just felt awkward when Jason was scrutinizing him. It reminded him of how things had been when he’d just come to live with his father and Jason had watched him closely. He hadn’t protested or anything, just kept a close eye on him, both in the manor and on patrol. At first Damian thought that Jason was trying to size up his competition and trying to figure Damian out both as a new member of the family and as Robin, but in reality Jason had just kept an eye on him to see what he was like.

Damian had cursed Jason out and even gone so far as to push him off a few sets of stairs, but Jason had persisted with trying to bond with him. They didn’t connect until after an encounter with Damian’s mother, Talia, where she claimed that he wasn’t her son anymore and Jason had opened up about his biological mother.

Damian would dare to say that he and Jason were pretty close, despite the nine year age difference between them. However, there were some things that brothers couldn’t share with each other.

He thought that this counted as one of them. There was only so much that he wanted to divulge with Jason.

Their food came without a word said between them and, even though Jason’s gaze was off of him, Damian could still feel Jason trying to figure him out.

Damian enjoyed his food. It didn’t take away from the fact that Jason would likely try to interrogate him soon, but at least he got some food out of it. There was enough spice in it that Damian could feel the heat in the back of his throat and he liked that kind of food. All of the ingredients were perfectly balanced.

“How’s your food?” Jason asked.

“It’s delectable,” Damian said. “The company could be better, though.”

“Ouch, that hurts, kiddo.” Jason didn’t look put upon though, instead smiling as he took his next bite. If only Jason’s food didn’t have meat in it. Damian would’ve liked to try it otherwise.

Damian scoffed. “You say it is part of my charm.”

“Was I on Vicodin when I said that?”

He kicked Jason under the table, trying not to smile as Jason laughed and tried to trap Damian’s foot between his calves.

It lightened the mood between them as Jason focused more on his food than anything else. Damian smiled down at his food to try and hide it. Somehow Jason always managed to get this reaction out of it, be it through a crude joke or a remark like that. A testament to their relationship, Damian supposed.

After they finished and Jason paid for their lunch, they walked outside again. Jason unbuttoned his jacket and rubbed his hand over his stomach. “What I wouldn’t give to veg out on the couch right now.”

“I’m surprised that you can stay in shape so well,” Damian said, laughing as Jason wrapped an arm around him and pulled him close to ruffle his hair.

“Brat.” Jason stopped ruffling Damian’s hair, but he did hold him close as they walked. “So you gonna tell me what’s going on in that head of yours?”

“It’s nothing of importance.” Damian tried to brush it off.

“Yet you’re taking pictures in Robinson Park from a very specific vantage point and not tracking someone,” Jason said.

Damian gritted his teeth. He hadn’t wanted to tell Jason, but his brother knew how to play him like a fiddle. “Fine. It’s for an investigation.”

Jason shook his head. “I figured out that much myself.”

“Stellar detective work then.” Damian thought of the pros and cons of telling Jason. At this point, the chance was high that Jason would keep badgering him about what he was doing, both in their personal life and as vigilantes. He’d once even told Damian that he didn’t like it when Damian runs off, because apparently he’s too _wild_. Jason ignored the fact that he could be pretty wild to.

Jason was too smart for his own good. He’d backed Damian up into a corner.

Damian could make something up to throw Jason off, but the question was how long that’d last. With the Talon as the one that Damian was trying to track down, it could take weeks to figure him out. Perhaps he stood a better chance if he had additional input. “I’m trying to track down the Talon’s next victim.”

Jason stopped in his tracks and looked down at Damian. “What are you talking about?”

“I…encountered him in the park last time,” Damian admitted.

“You what? When? Was it when you were out with Colin?” Jason moved so he was standing in front of Damian.

“Yes,” Damian said.

His brother shook him lightly. “And you didn’t tell any of us? What were you thinking?”

“He knows who I am. He addressed me as Robin.” He lowered his voice because they were already attracting enough attention already.

One of Jason’s hands lifted to rub over his face instead of holding onto Damian’s shoulder. “Damn. That isn’t good at all. Actually, no, that’s an understatement. We’re screwed.”

“He said he was stalking his next prey, so I’ve compiled the CCTV surveillance from the area and took pictures from the vantage point where he was,” Damian continued.

“Ah, hell, Babs. Bruce is going to strangle all of us, or worse, ground us.” Jason bemoaned like he was still a teenager and not a man in his twenties. Bruce did have that kind of effect on them though.

“Not if we catch the Talon before he can kill someone else.” Damian thought that it’d actually be possible.

“You’re crazy. We’re all crazy.” Jason pulled away from Damian and kept walking.

Damian hurried after him, catching up to him in no time. “So that means you’ll help?”

“Duh.”


	6. Chapter 6

So far the Talon was the one to constantly get the drop on Damian, but this time it was different. Together with Jason and Barbara he’d created a sort of motion sensor. It had taken quite a bit out of all of them, but they managed to get it to work to a point where it would be useful. It wasn’t perfect by any means, but it was enough for now.

The sensor was calibrated to detect certain movements from a specific body type. From what Damian understood, it’d been a hell for Barbara to program, even if he’d come over to the Clock Tower and shown her what kind of movements the Talon tended to make.

They’d made three of the devices, two for Robin and Specter and one for Batman, should they decide to include him into their search. For now, they all agreed that keeping Batman out of it would be the best idea, otherwise it was likely that he would impede their search. While Batman was clearly an asset, sometimes it was better to find information first to present to him rather than show up without anything substantial.

“I’m going to be tracking you at all times and any conversations will be recorded,” Oracle said over the comms.

“Ten-four, Oracle,” Specter said.

They’d told Batman that they were going to be patrolling together, and they would be, for the most part. Specter and Robin would both be in the same district, just not necessarily right next to each other. “I copy,” Damian said.

“Stay safe, boys.” Oracle’s direct line closed, but she would still be there.

Damian just hoped that the Talon’s interest in him would draw him out. Hopefully the assassin would actually be out and about in the city rather than whichever hole he crawled into. They were putting a lot of faith into this plan and Damian didn’t want to disappoint anyone. If this worked they would save a lot of people.

“When the old man finds out about this, I’m throwing you under the bus,” Specter said.

His father was going to find out one way or another. “Aren’t you supposed to take the fall for me?”

“Hell no.” Specter snorted and Damian could imagine the grin on his face.

The first night they didn’t have any success at all. During their sweep, they hadn’t found the Talon. At first, Damian feared that he’d gone to assassinate another person, but when morning came and no murders were reported, he felt relief. It could mean that the Talon was still stalking his next target, or that he’d returned to the Court after all.

What if he’d gone back to tell them about how he knew the identity of Robin? Damian felt like they’d already have experienced repercussions if that were the case. So was the Talon keeping it to himself for now?

None of the questions would be answered until Damian found the Talon.

He and Specter both had their sensors on them with every patrol, even if they weren’t together. The chances that they might actually find the Talon were larger if they were in different parts of the city, but that also meant that Robin had Batman to deal with. His father was starting to loosen his reins ever so slightly, but Damian didn’t want to do anything that might jeopardize that.

It took almost a week before Damian’s sensor picked up on something. It was one of the first readings that he’d gotten. There had been a few weak one here and there, but Damian was never able to capitalize on them.

Damian relayed his position to Oracle and Specter before he went to investigate. He climbed onto the roof and spotted movement near the shadows. The moon was blocked by clouds, which created a lot of shadows for someone trained in stealth to utilize. He immediately followed after, hoping that it was the Talon.

His gut rolled as Damian followed the movement in the shadows and drew closer and closer until he could pounce out.

The Talon turned almost as soon as Damian jumped and he stepped to the side, grabbing Damian’s arm and throwing him over his shoulder. Damian rolled as he landed, making sure that he never turned his back to the Talon, who laughed as he stood up straight.

“Look who it is. A Robin stooping onto an Owl,” the Talon said.

“There’s no one you can threaten this time,” Damian growled out.

The Talon held his arms out to his side and stepped forward, Damian mirroring his movement by taking a step back. There was no one with them this time. The playing field was even. “Isn’t there?”

“No.” Damian kept his eyes on the Talon as he moved to the side and they started circling each other.

“What about Lincoln Marsh, mayor candidate? Commissioner James Gordon? Doctor Leslie Thompkins, maybe?”

“You’ll have to go through me,” Damian said.

Talon chuckled. “I’ve done that before.”

“This time will be different.” Damian promised him.

“Are you going to stop holding back and use all of your training? I’ve watched you. I know a fellow killer when I see one.” Talon stepped forward again and Damian held his ground.

“I’m not a killer anymore.” It had been a long time since Damian had taken someone’s life.

“Anymore being the keyword.” Talon placed a hand on his hip and wagged his finger. “I remember what you were like at the start. Carrying around that sword of yours. Ruthless, vicious, uncompromising.”

Everything that the Talon was saying could be part of a deception. While it was possible that he could’ve seen Damian back then, it was just as likely that he’d heard it from another source or done his research.

“It’s better this way,” Damian argued. I’m better this way, he thought to himself.

“That’s right. Justice, not vengeance.” The Talon mocked and he tapped the side of his head.

Those were the words his father said to him back then. The ideology that he’d been training Damian to adopt rather than what he’d learned growing up in the League. It had been his mantra for a while and Damian reminded himself of it when he got into hard to solve situations.

How the Talon knew those exact words was a question for another time.

“It can be that way again.” Talon extended his hand towards Damian. “We can aid the Court together instead of fighting against each other.”

“I like the sound of you leaving the Court to help us better.” Damian held out his hand as well. He’d never take the Talon’s, but what if there was a chance for it to happen the other way around?

The Talon’s arm lowered slightly and his head cocked to the side. “You’d want me to join you?”

“Why not?” Damian asked. It wasn’t as if they hadn’t worked with former criminals before, or criminals that couldn’t decide where they stood. If his father could do it, so could Damian.

They stared at each other, their arms still stretched out. Damian held his breath when the Talon lifted his other hand and pulled his hood back. The yellow eyes were still striking, unnatural. From here Damian wasn’t able to see the markings on his face, but he knew they were there. Now he could properly see the Talon’s face. The first time his vision had been impeded by his concussion and the second time the Talon had been wearing a hood and glasses.

“I made my choice. I am a servant of the Court of Owls, the extension of their will,” the Talon said as he stepped forward. Since he wasn’t reaching for any of his knives or making any kind of threatening movement, Damian kept his hand out, even as the Talon came in close enough to touch him.

 “I changed my mind too.” He’d made the conscious choice to remain with his father, even when his mother had told him to come back.

Damian held back a shudder as the Talon ran the back of his claws over Damian’s wrist. His gloves would protect him from the worst damage, but with the Talon so close, it was a gamble to figure out where he might strike. The Talon twisted his hand and gripped Damian’s wrist tightly. “You’ve seen what happens to traitors of the Court.”

“We can stop them with your help.”

The Talon laughed out loud, throwing his head back. His grip tightened on Damian to the point where it was likely to bruise. He lowered his head again and grinned at Damian. “You say that like you expect something to come out of it.”

He held himself still, just looking at the Talon. This was the most reaction, the most emotion that Damian had every gotten out of him and it threw him off. In their past interactions he’d been so calculating and to see a grin on his face was strange. It made Damian’s gut twist. “We will do it.”

“Empty promises. The Court is all encompassing! More than you would think. What would you do, little Robin red breast?” The Talon’s other hand came up and cupped Damian’s chin, pulling him in closer. Yellow eyes roamed over his face, as if he was taking in every little feature that he could.

“Everything that I can,” Damian said as clearly as possible with the way the Talon was holding his chin.

The Talon sighed, shifting his grip so he could rub his thumb along Damian’s jaw. “Such optimism. But what if your everything isn’t enough?”

“I am not alone. You know that.” He tried not to lean into the touch. It was so gentle against the grip on his wrist. Damian could feel the tips of the claws against his face, but the Talon was being careful as not to even scratch him.

“Would Batman permit his Justice League to enter Gotham?” The Talon asked.

If it came down to it, Damian knew that his father would, no matter how stubborn he was. For Gotham, he might relent, depending on how big the threat of the Court of Owls was. There was no way that he could deny that they existed at this point. “Yes. He vowed to fight crime and corruption.”

The thumb stopped moving and the Talon’s jaw clenched. Damian only had a chance to breathe in before the Talon tilted his head back and dug the pads of his fingers into Damian’s chin, the tips of his claws pressing against Damian’s skin, just barely not piercing through. “He did, did he? Just think about it. What has he really done for this city? Removed some dirty cops, a corrupt mayor, stopped the poisoning of the Sprang a few times, but what has he really done? Created maniacs, failed to protect people on his _mission_ , never found a permanent solution for these so-called problems,” the Talon spat as he shook Damian’s face. “It’s so easy though. Remove the factors that impede you and take over for yourself. Sculpt everything in your own view and form the people who would enforce your will.”

“Like the Court of Owls, who have been reduced into a fairy tale to scare children?” Damian gritted out.

“The Court bides its time to make sure that everything goes exactly the way they envisioned,” Talon said.

“But they don’t do it. You _do_. The Talon.” Damian reached into his belt while the Talon was aggravated. Three clicks sounded in his ear, signalling that Specter was ready to jump in when he needed to.

A snarl came from the Talon as he moved his hand down to Damian’s chest. “Why Robin?” He asked, baring his teeth as he tugged at the emblem.

Again, he was asking about Robin. He’d been teasing Damian about it before, but the Talon was fixated. This was not the first time that he’d been focused on it at all. It was a strange question coming from him, when he was called the Talon of all things and worked for the Court of Owls. Names were inconsequential in this moment.

“Why Talon?” Damian asked, gasping as the Talon pushed his head back further.

“I asked first! Robin. Why Robin?” He shook Damian. The sound of fabric ripping filled the air as the Talon’s grip tore the Robin emblem off.

Damian didn’t understand the obsession at all, but it provided him with an opening. He grabbed the taser from his belt and switched it on, the electricity crackling as the weapon connected. The Talon jerked back and his body convulsed as he let go of Damian. The emblem tore off, gripped tightly in his hand.

Heavy boots landed next to him. There was no need for subtlety at this point. “You good?” Specter asked.

“Get him.” Damian watched as the Talon’s body jerked once more before he froze completely.

“What the hell is he made of?” After a full body shudder the Talon took a step back, hunching up. The electricity had definitely affected him, but just like everything else it didn’t seem to have a lasting effect.

“You. Two Robins. You think you outsmarted me.” The Talon’s teeth were bared as he glared at them. Such a sharp contrast from before.

Specter leapt forward, kicking upwards. When the Talon lunged and tried to grab Specter’s foot, he let himself drop and twisted to the side before he kicked again, this time hitting the Talon in the side. The assassin stumbled back by the force of the kick and Specter moved in again landing a hook and an uppercut before the Talon grabbed his arm and spun so he could throw Specter over his back and away.

When Specter rolled out of the throw Damian moved in next. He didn’t want the Talon to get away again with nothing to show for it. Damian blocked the Talon’s strike, grabbing his arm and pulling it back. He jabbed the Talon’s elbow and heard it crack. It would be useless for a few seconds.

The Talon swung up with his other arm and Damian ducked under it, kicking the assassin’s legs out under him. As soon as he hit the floor, Damian jumped on him. He didn’t expect for the Talon to wrap his legs around his waist and Damian was flipped. Specter came over, getting his arms around the Talon and lifting him up off up Damian, but not before Damian pressed a tracker on the inside of one of the feather’s adorning the Talon’s shoulders.

“Careful, Specter!” Damian called out.

Specter nodded and he threw the Talon away from them.

The arm that the Talon tried to catch himself with was still broken and he slammed onto the ground when he tried to catch his fall. He pushed himself up with a grimace. The Talon looked over at Damian as he stepped back towards the edge of the roof. “You fool.”

“You’re the fool,” Damian said back.

Specter charged forward again and the Talon jumped off of the roof. The vigilante came to a stop at the roof’s end and peered down. “How does he get away so fast?”

“I’m not sure.” Damian walked over to stand next to Specter.

“Did you get him?” He asked.

Damian nodded. He hoped that the tracker was placed in a spot where the Talon wouldn’t be able to find it. He’d purposefully grabbed one of the smallest trackers they had as not to alert the Talon. Hopefully it was light enough that it wouldn’t impede that way that the feathers moved. Right now, that was the likeliest scenario for the Talon noticing and getting rid of the tracker.

“We’ll track his movements. Perhaps he’ll bring us to the Court,” Damian said. They could finally investigate this further and get behind the feather killings. Damian just hoped that this way, they’d be able to prevent more assassinations from happening.

Specter tapped Damian’s chest, on the spot where the emblem had been. “He didn’t seem happy about that.”

“That and father’s words.” The mood had shifted drastically in the instance. Damian actually thought that he and the Talon would be able to have a conversation that wouldn’t end in conflict until he’d said the words. He couldn’t help but wonder how much of those words were Talon’s own and how much he’d been fed to by the Court of Owls.

“I guess the old man just evokes rage.” Specter reached out and traced Damian’s chest through the hole in his uniform. At least Damian was wearing a compression shirt underneath his tunic. Otherwise the cold air would be brushing against his bare skin.

“Do I really evoke rage in you boys?”

Specter’s hand fell flat against Damian’s chest. “Well, fuck me gently with a chainsaw.”

“Neither of you were answering your comms. I found that it was appropriate to find out what you were doing.” Batman walked over to them, crossing his arms over his chest.

Damian looked at Specter, who nodded, then proceeded to not say anything at all. Damn him. Damian was going to make sure that he’d get back at Jason. “We ran into the Talon.”

Batman’s mouth actually dropped slightly before he squared his shoulders and scowled. “And you didn’t report it?”

“We were kind of in a fight,” Damian said. He didn’t want to let his father know many of the particulars yet. How he’d seen the Talon more times than he’d admitted. That would only lead to more scrutiny.

“We got a tracker on the bastard, though.” Specter quickly added.

If they were in the cave or in the manor, Damian was certain that his father would’ve groaned or bow his head and pinch the bridge of his nose. Those tended to be his most frequent ways of showing his exasperation around his sons. Damian could tell by the way that Batman’s fingers were twitching that he was fighting the urge.

“Then we’re going after him. Tonight.” Batman decided. He walked over to Specter and Damian, grabbing them by the shoulders and squeezing. “You two will listen to everything that I have to say. No if, ands, or buts.”

“Yeah, B.”

“Yes, father.”

The corner of Batman’s mouth quirked and he shook his sons. “Go ahead. Activate the tracker.”

Damian pulled the small console from his belt. Luckily they’d decided for this method instead of tracking through Oracle’s computer. That would’ve gotten her in Batman’s bad books as well. He flicked it on and the small screen came to life. It took a moment to calibrate and find a signal with the satellite, beeping when it found the tracking device and showed its progress over the past five minutes.

The tracking device was working, showing how the Talon was moving towards the Sprang Bridge. Hopefully it meant that the Talon was heading that way and not that he’d found the tracker and placed it on a car for them to mindlessly chase without knowing it was him.

“We’re going to swing. Lead the way, Robin,” Batman instructed.

Damian nodded as he pulled his grapple out and started following the tracker. The Talon was still moving. He was curious to see where the Talon would be going. Perhaps he would inadvertently lead them to the Court of Owls. That was the best outcome of this scenario.

However, knowing them, it would be far from the scenario that they would reach. His father was suspiciously silent when and they made their way from Burnley, down through the Upper East End and to Old Gotham.

Damian came to a stop on the Clock Tower, Batman and Specter stopping right next to him. “He’s slowed down. His movements are a lot more precise now.”

It made sense for this part of the city. The lights were a lot brighter and there were still a few people walking around. They all had to be more cautious around this area, but the Talon would especially need to be stealthy. It wouldn’t do for the assassin to be spotted.

“What is his current position?”

“He’s circling,” Damian said. There wasn’t a central location that the Talon seemed to be going to. It was likely to throw off any possible pursuers. The Talon couldn’t know that they were after him, because his movements would be very different. They were typical precautionary movements. If the Talon was lingering here, that meant that the Court of Owls was close by.

It made sense for them to have their base of operations in Old Gotham. From what Damian understood, they were an organization that had been around for a long time. Now the question was where it was located.

“Let’s position ourselves in triangular formation.” Batman told Specter and Robin where to go and they split up.

The Talon was still moving around, but he was moving in a smaller circle now. They needed to get this right the first time or they would miss their chance. If the Court of Owls knew they were this close, there’d be retaliation.

“He’s headed due north, two blocks from Wayne Tower,” Specter said.

“We’ll grab him on the edge of the next block,” Batman instructed.

Damian got into position and looked down between the buildings. He caught the Talon moving slowly and low to the ground. If they didn’t have the tracker on him, he would’ve been hard to see.

The moment that the Talon stepped around the corner of the building, Batman jumped down and landed in front of him. The assassin tried to back up, but Specter landed behind him. Damian jumped down onto one of the fire escapes to deter an escape by climbing.

“You’re cornered, Talon,” Batman said.

In the time that the Talon had run off, he’d donned his hood again. His hands were empty as well. Damian wondered what he’d done with the Robin emblem.

“You’re making a mistake. The Court will not look kindly at this,” the Talon warned them as he looked around, no doubt assessing what he was going to do next. Damian knew he was going to try and run. It was the most logical in this situation.

“I’m pretty sure we don’t give a damn,” Specter said.

“What will you say next? I won’t get away with this?” The Talon asked with a chuckle.

They weren’t going to let him get away with this. With the three of them surrounding the Talon, it was statistically unlikely that he would be able to get by.

The Talon took a step towards Batman. “Despite what you might think, I don’t want to fight you, Batman. Just let me go. Like you do with everyone else.”

“I don’t let them go,” Batman said.

The Talon held up his hand to keep them from saying more. “Maybe not, but you put them in the hands of people that have proven to be incompetent. You put them away, but how long does it last? How long until they break out or are released back onto the streets? The Court of Owls can help. With their influence we can make it stick. You just need to work with us.”

“I would never work with people who have been ordering assassinations to get their way,” Batman said.

The Talon’s shoulders dropped and he hung his head, giving the look that he was disappointed. He hadn’t shown emotion like that when Damian said that he wouldn’t join the Court. “Fine.” With a growl, the Talon threw himself forward at Batman. He dove forward, but he reached for Batman’s belt rather than try in incapacity him. “Give it to me!” The Talon reached into one of the pouches just as Batman grabbed the top of his hood. The assassin rolled away when he got what he was looking for, but the hood came off, the goggles clattering to the ground.

Damian jumped down, ready to keep the Talon from dashing away when he heard Batman speak softly.

“Richard?”

The Talon looked up, moving to the side so his back was facing the wall. He scowled and was trying very hard not to look in the direction of Batman.

“Richard? Dick, is that you?” The hood fell to the ground by the goggles as Batman stepped forward.

“My name is Talon! And you’ll never stop us, Bruce.” The Talon lifted his hand and threw what he’d grabbed down, the area immediately filling up with smoke.

Damian covered his mouth and tried to listen as he changed the setting on his mask to look for heat signatures. He heard a loud thud off to the side and looked just in time to see a blue blur. “He’s going into the sewers!”

By the time Damian navigated to the sewer entrance and jumped down, the Talon was already gone. He looked down the two pathways, but there was no way of knowing where the Talon had gone. He couldn’t pick up the sound of feet running through water or that blue signature again. That was peculiar. How was it that the Talon read so cold on his scanner? No human was that cold. It didn’t make sense with the accelerated healing as well, as all the metas that Damian knew ran hot instead of cold.

“Batman, if we split up, maybe we can catch him!” Damian looked around, noticing that neither Batman nor Specter had gone down with him. “Are you there?”

“Come back up, Robin,” Specter called out.

Damian grabbed his tracking console and saw that there wasn’t any readings anymore. It was likely that there wasn’t any connection down in the sewers. Unless the Talon came above again, they wouldn’t be able to find him so easily. He sighed, putting the console away and climbing out of the sewer; even though Damian wanted to go after the Talon, he was glad to be out of the stench.

When he got back above ground, Batman was kneeling with his back against the wall and Specter was crouched down in front of him. “What are we waiting for? If we wait much longer, any trace of him will be gone,” Damian protested.

“It’s him,” Batman whispered.

“It’s who, Batman? Who’s Richard?” Specter spoke softly, trying to coax Batman into talking with them. Damian didn’t know what he was seeing. His father’s shoulders were hunched and he was staring at the manhole intently.

Batman didn’t answer Specter or even acknowledge his question. “After all this time. How? Why?”

“Father?” Damian stepped closer and couched next to Specter.

Finally Batman’s gaze shifted when Damian moved in, although it wasn’t focused yet. He looked like he was staring at Damian’s chest, on the spot where the Talon had torn off the Robin emblem.

“I know him,” Batman muttered again.


	7. Chapter 7

“His name is Richard Grayson.” They were all gathered by the computer in the Cave. After a few minutes Jason and Damian managed to coax Bruce into the Batmobile and had gone back home. His father seemed to wake up on the drive back and he’d immediately gone to the computer. “He was a young aerial acrobat at Haly’s Circus and he was part of The Flying Grayson, the main attraction. They were aerialists whose specialty was performing without the use of safety nets. I had gone to a performance one night when there was an accident.”

Jason hummed under his breath. “Something happened and they fell, right? I remember hearing that story.”

“Yes. All I can clearly remember is the screaming and people running away around me, but I was focused on him. That little boy who ran up to his parents’ bodies, broken and bloodied on the ground and I couldn’t help but see me.” Bruce pulled up pictures and articles about the Flying Graysons.

“So what did you do?” Damian asked. Obviously his father had done something, because not only did the Talon know him, he’d addressed his father as Bruce while he was Batman. That meant that he knew the secret.

“At first? Nothing. It was only when I heard that he’d been sent to juvenile detention instead of an orphanage that I went out to find him and took him in as my ward. I was in over my head, especially when Richard…Dick, his nickname was Dick, that’s what he wanted me to call him.” Bruce chuckled and shook his head at the memory. “God, he found the entrance to the Cave and demanded to help me.”

“He was supposed to be the first Robin,” Jason said.

Damian frowned. “But you were the first Robin, Jason.”

“Yeah, I was, but the suit was already down here. The name was already attached to it. You told me that there was supposed to be someone else, old man. Someone who was going to be Robin.” Jason looked over at Damian. They were all still wearing their costumes.

“He was… But something happened and he was gone. It was all my fault!” Bruce slammed his hand on the table. “We argued and he ran off and he never came back. The Court of Owls got their hands on him somehow. They did something to him.” He quickly opened up a still that his cowl had recorded, of the Talon looking straight at him and putting a picture of a grinning Richard Grayson next to him.

“Did he have regenerative powers before?” Damian asked.

“He didn’t. Not only that, but Dick is supposed to be almost thirty years old.”

There was no way. Damian looked at the two pictures side by side. Clearly there were a few years between the two of them, as Richard had clearly matured, but it wasn’t possible for him to look so young, especially with his profession. “How old was he in the picture?”

“He was nine at the time,” Bruce said. “Physiologically, he can’t be more than a teen right now. If you look at his features, you can still clearly see that he’s still growing into himself. I’d put him at seventeen, maximum. Maybe not even that.”

Damian stepped back and sat down in another chair. While his father was grieving for this boy that he once knew, he was starting to miss the more important questions. He was compromised in this sense and Damian had never seen him like that.

They were supposed to be prioritizing the fact that the Court had done something to Richard. They’d manipulated or altered his genetics somehow. There was no other explanation for his regenerative abilities. Did it have to do with the veins that Damian saw trailing up Richard’s neck? And the yellow, almost owl-like eyes? What had they done to this boy who once wanted nothing more than to help Batman and make him into a methodically killer?

In Damian’s case, he’d been brought up in that life, but from what he understood, Richard was just a regular boy compared to him. Perhaps not so normal, if he lived and worked at a circus, but in comparison to Damian, it certainly was. Even the grin that Talon had given him earlier was nothing like the one on the screen now. There Richard was clearly happy and Talon’s had been full of mirth. It was the same curl of lips, but with a different meaning behind them.

He focused back on Bruce and Jason. Bruce was holding onto Jason’s hands and pressing them against his own forehead. “God, Jay. When we were in Ethiopia and you were with Sheila, I almost left you with her. I don’t want to think what would’ve happened if I had. With the Joker there and her working for him. The Joker would’ve taken you and I wouldn’t have known until it was too late.”

“Hey, it’s okay, old man. You were there. You stopped him from hurting me. You were there for me, Bruce,” Jason reassured him.

“If I hadn’t, I would’ve lost two of you. I don’t know what I would’ve done,” Bruce said.

Damian watched them. He knew the story of how Jason had wanted to find his biological mother. It was during a bumpy part between Jason and Bruce, but they always said that they’d come out stronger. That the experience had made them both better. Bruce had been there in a way for Jason which he apparently hadn’t for Richard. Just like the way that Bruce was there for Damian, like he had been all these weeks of vigilance.

A vigilance his father had gotten that Richard had to pay the price for.

\--

Damian offered to stay in for the night. He saw the way his father kept looking at him when they were in the Cave, like something might happen to Damian if Bruce so much as looked away for longer than a minute. They were set to go into the sewers for the night to see if there was any trace of Talon and they all needed to be at their best.

If Bruce was constantly going to be checking if Damian was still around, then he would only be a distraction, so Damian said that he’d be staying at the manor for the night, claiming that he needed to do homework.

His father had either believed him or been so relieved that he hadn’t voiced a protest.

Now Damian was lying in bed. It was hard to fall asleep, knowing that his father and brother were scouring the sewers to find the trace of an assassin and the organization behind him. Normally the rain pattering against his window would help him fall asleep, but it wasn’t a reassurance tonight. He probably wouldn’t be able to find sleep until everyone was back at the manor.

Alfred was downstairs as well, trying to help Bruce and Jason with their search as much as he could, analyzing everything that they sent to him. Damian had gone upstairs to distract himself. First he tried drawing, until he realized that he’d been doodling an owl. After that Damian pushed his sketch book aside.

He had to admit that he was intrigued about Talon now, even more so than before. Both Alfred and Bruce had such visceral reactions upon realizing that Talon was Richard Grayson. What was it about the boy that had them so out of sorts?

Damian had done some research on his computer, but there wasn’t much to find. Bruce taking Richard in must’ve been on a need to know basis at that point, because there wasn’t any mention of it at all.

Unless it’d all been removed somehow. Damian hadn’t had the chance to talk to his father about the situation more. He decided that he’d wait a little bit. At least until they’d gone through the sewers. There were answers to be found, but the question was when they’d find them.

There was gentle ticking on his window and Titus growled lowly from his spot on the end of Damian’s bed. “Hush, Titus.” It was likely just the rain coming down harder. Perhaps it was even cold enough for small pieces of hail.

The ticking came again and Titus slowly got off of the bed, walking towards the window. “Titus, come back here!” Damian sat up. The Great Dane never acted like this.

The ticking came again and this time Damian saw something move in the blackness. He got out of bed, grabbing the katana displayed on his dresser. Titus growled again as Damian got close and he patted the dog on the head. “Good boy.”

Damian moved closer with the sword held out in front of him. His grip tightened when something moved in front of the window. Titus jumped up and started barking. Bright eyes gleamed in the dark and Damian held his breath. What was Talon doing here? How had he gotten past all of the manor’s defenses? He was certain that his father had set everything on high alert for the night.

He stepped to the side and turned his bedside lamp on, seeing Talon flinched away slightly and covered up his eyes. Were they sensitive to the light? Damian supposed that Talon had been wearing sunglasses in the park, but he’d thought that was just to hide his unnaturally yellow eyes.

Talon kept his hand by his face and gestured to his chest. Upon further inspection Damian saw that Talon didn’t seem to be armed. There were no knives in any of his holsters, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t have a weapon on him. Talon pressed his free hand against the window. He was holding the Robin emblem.

Damian stared at him. Talon was soaked by the rain. His hair hung limp and stuck to his face. Damian doubted that his bodysuit was waterproof, so he was likely soaked to the bone.

What were the chances of Talon showing up at the manor when the others were out in the night looking for him?

“Hush, Titus.” The Dane whimpered softly at the command, not pleased with Damian’s choice. Between his sword and Titus, Damian was certain that he had the upper hand.

He walked forward and undid the latch for the window, pushing it up. Damian kept enough distance so Talon couldn’t reach out and pull him outside. “What are you doing here?” Just because Talon looked like he was offering up parley didn’t mean that he was going to stick with that.

“I just want to talk. I swear.” Talon kept his hands up, not making a move to go inside.

Damian still held his sword out in front of him. “Talk about what?”

Talon tossed the Robin emblem on the floor. Titus growled and sniffed it before he sat down again, deeming that it wasn’t harmful. “About this. I know you and Bruce talked.”

“Maybe we haven’t,” Damian said.

The corner of Talon’s mouth curled up. “It’s Bruce. Of course you did.”

It was eerie to think that this person who’d been causing them so much trouble knew such intimate knowledge about the inner workings of their family. “Just like you talked to the Court?” If Damian were in Talon’s shoes, he would’ve reported back to his superiors already. Had he actually told them Batman’s civilian identity? Did they know how to get onto the manor grounds without tripping the alarms? Was this just another distraction?

“I haven’t been back. I never would’ve been able to keep that otherwise. I’d be locked away or back down under,” Talon said, gesturing to the Robin emblem again.

“What does that mean?” Damian asked.

“It means that any Talon that does not act in accordance to the Court’s wishes will be punished.” Talon said it with a straight face, as if he was reciting from a book. Likely something that was ingrained in him then.

“It’s just you?” Damian asked.

Talon nodded, slowly lowering his hands. “It’s just me.”

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t alert everyone.” Damian stepped forward, holding the tip of his sword under Talon’s chin.

Talon’s hands immediately came up again. “You want questions answered, I have answers. In moderation of course. I’m not going to kiss and tell.”

Damian felt his ears heat up at Talon’s words. What a stupid thing to say! It was almost worse than Jason’s constant quoting at random moments. “What if I have questions about the Court of Owls?”

“I won’t tell you how to find them, or who they are,” Talon said.

“That eliminates everything I’d want to know.” Damian scowled. How was he supposed to get anything out of this?

Talon ducked down, leaning inside and stopping when Titus growled at him. “I am a Talon of the Court, one of many. I am used when they require my services.”

If there were more than one Talon, then why was this Talon working alone? Damian kept his sword up to keep Talon from moving in further. “What do you do when you’re not needed?”

“I sleep. We all do,” Talon said.

“How old are you?”

“That depends on what year it is.” This time Talon actually smiled. “I tend to avoid looking at when it is.”

“How do you sleep?” Damian asked. Talon stayed quiet this time. It was likely one of the answers that he wasn’t going to give. Damian tapped his foot as he thought about a question that he wanted to know. “Why are you being used right now? What makes your _services_ different from the others?”

Talon shrugged. “They think me special. I am the Gray Son of Gotham.”  

“You mean Grayson.” That was his name. He claimed to be Talon now, but once his name had been Grayson.

“No. I am the Gray Son. I was always meant to be this,” Talon said.

Damian didn’t even want to think about what that meant. There were many implications in those words that reminded him of his Grandfather and his way of thinking. Talon was just so frank about it, even though at one time he was meant to be something else. “You were meant to be Robin.” Damian pointed at the emblem.

“Robin was a childish dream.” Talon’s eyes narrowed.

“Why Robin?” Damian asked, throwing Talon’s question right back at him. He’d lost count of just how often it’d been asked at this point.

Talon turned his head, looking off to the side and breaking eye contact with Damian for the first time since he’d come out of the darkness. “Why Robin, indeed.”

“It had meaning to you. More than just as Batman’s partner,” Damian said.

A low chuckle came from Talon as he shook his head. “It was my mother’s nickname for me. I would become Robin in her and my father’s memory.”

Damian slowly lowered his sword. “Tell me more.” He took a step back.

Talon recognized the movement and slowly stepped inside, pausing when Titus growled again. He only climbed in fully when Damian got Titus to settle down again. Talon even turned his back to them when he slid the window shut again. Water was dripping off of him, soaking the carpet. Alfred was going to ask Damian questions when he found the damp spot in the morning.

“Bruce promised me that we would bring the man who murdered my parents to justice,” Talon said, turning back to look at Damian.

“So he made you Robin?” Damian admittedly didn’t know much about the moniker. Only the legacy that Jason had left behind. He’d never thought to ask anything more.

“Of sorts. He trained me. We said an oath to ‘fight together against crime and corruption’.” Talon leaned back against the window frame with a scowl. Now Damian knew why he’d reacted so violently when Damian spoke those words to him.

“I said that oath with him too, and Jason did as well,” Damian said.

Talon pulled one of his gloves off and scratched the back of his head. In the light Damian could see the peculiar dark veins traveling up to his wrist. “Good for you.”

“What happened next?” Damian didn’t want Talon to become hostile.

“We trained, I designed the suit, we disagreed and I ran away, thinking I could do it by myself. The Court found me, promised me what I wanted and the rest is history,” Talon quickly summed up.

Damian knew that there was more to the story, but he didn’t want to push Talon just yet. It was a miracle that he was even telling Damian this much. “All this time you’ve known. What have you told the Court?” He had to worry about their safety now.

“Nothing yet, but I will have to when I return. I haven’t told them how to get by the security system. It’s been upgraded in the past few years, but it isn’t that impressive. Tell your father that?” Talon suggested.

Damian snorted. “Tell my father you broke through our defenses to speak with me? He wouldn’t know what to do with himself.”

Talon let out a wry chuckle. “He’d blow a gasket probably.”

Damian chuckled as well and lowered his sword even more. He didn’t feel like he needed to be on guard with Talon right now, as long as Damian made sure not to trigger Talon. “It would be of epic proportions, as Jason would say.” Damian sighed and tapped the tip of his sword against the ground. “Why are you really here, Talon? Or should I call you Richard?”

“There is only one person that calls me Richard… I came to see you before I returned. I must report your interference. The Court will either send me or another Talon for your heads. All this time I’ve avoided all of you, but now you know…Bruce knows, what’s become of me,” Talon said.

“My offer from before still stands,” Damian said. He stepped forward, holding his hand out again.

Talon started at Damian’s hand. He didn’t say anything as he pushed himself off of the window sill and walked towards Damian. “Your offer, perhaps, but Bruce would never accept it.”

“He would. He would for you.” Bruce had accepted Damian and he would accept Richard as well. The link to their past together was strong enough for Bruce to let him come back. Damian knew that for sure.

“He said he would never work with people like me,” Talon ran his bare fingers over Damian’s hand.

He almost pulled his hand away from Talon. His fingers were freezing to the touch. Surely it wasn’t that cold outside? Suddenly Damian felt guilty for letting him stand out in the rain for so long. “He said he’d never work with the people who order assassinations.”

“But he’d extend a hand to the assassin?” Talon asked.

Talon did have a point. It wouldn’t do for Batman to abandon a part of his code just for a single person. Someone who had run off and become one of the things that Batman fought against during the night. “You’re cold. We should get you out of those clothes.”

“I’m not staying. The longer I’m gone, the worse the repercussions will be.” Talon pulled his hand back.

“At least accept something for warmth.” Damian stepped back to grab his extra blanket for Talon. He still made a point of not turning his back to Talon though, even though the assassin had done it for Damian earlier. There was only a point to which Damian would be comfortable around Talon for now. It didn’t matter how friendly they were being.

Talon took the blanket from Damian and wrapped it around him, even pulling it up over his wet head. “Thank you. I don’t like it when it gets like this.”

“Wet and cold?” Damian sat down on his bed, Titus lying down by his feet.

“Yes.” Talon took another step forward, looking around Damian’s room. His gaze still steered away from the direct light as he took in the scenery. “Your room is plain.”

“What do you mean?” Damian asked.

“When I lived here, I made it my own. Posters, pictures, and basically everything that I could use as a decoration.” Talon’s voice grew even softer as he reminisced.

“I’m certain Alfred kept it all.” Damian wouldn’t put it past the butler. There was no way Alfred would’ve tossed things like those out.

Talon smiled again, hiding it by covering up his mouth with the blanket. “I guess he would’ve.”

Damian could see the resemblance of the boy that Talon once was. There weren’t too many differences besides the obvious ones that set him apart. His face had thinned out, but there was still the slightest bit of roundness to his cheeks. Talon’s jawline and cheekbones reminded Damian of the pictures that he’d seen of John Grayson, but the shape of Talon’s mouth and eyes were all Mary Grayson’s. Once upon a time Talon’s eyes had been blue like hers as well.

“Why are you really here?” Damian whispered. If he had his way, he would watch Talon the rest of the night, but he knew that they didn’t have that. Talon would leave and this moment of peace between them would be gone.

Talon’s eyes settled back on him. For all that the yellow was an unnatural eye colour, Damian couldn’t help but really like them. “I guess I wanted one last reminder of who I was before I return to who I am.”

“If you were looking for something of the past, I’m the wrong person to go to.” Damian only found out who Talon was the night prior. There was no connection between them that went back longer than a few months.

“Things are going to change.” Talon lifted one arm from between the blankets and placed his hand on Damian’s cheek. His hand was cold against Damian’s cheek, quickly soaking in all the warmth that it could.

Even then, Damian leaned into the touch. It reminded him of when Talon had caressed his cheek before, but instead of wearing his glove, there was now direct skin to skin contact. A shiver went down Damian’s spine. “We can decide how they change.”

Talon shook his head. “We can’t. We’re just pawns in a bigger plot.” He leaned in even closer and pressed his lips against Damian’s forehead.

“We can change it. We can,” Damian said again. Talon had been under the foot of the Court of Owls for too long. He just had to believe.

“Promise me that you’ll stay out of it. I’d hate to have to kill you,” Talon whispered.

Damian leaned back so he could look Talon in the eyes and he placed his hand on top of the one on his cheek. “I can’t stay out of it. I won’t.”

“Stupid.” Talon hissed under his breath, his eyes roaming over Damian’s face. “When we’re out there, I won’t hesitate.”

“I wouldn’t want you to.” Damian’s stomach twisted as he watched Talon look at him. His lips had felt so good against Damian’s forehead. He could do the same now or… Damian look at Talon’s lips. He leaned forward, but stopped. What was he thinking? This was an assassin who had shown time and again just how cold and calculating he could be. But Talon still came back tonight. He’d come in search of Damian specifically. After this there wouldn’t be another change. Damian closed the gap, pressing his lips against Talon’s. He held himself still trying to make this moment last long enough so he could remember it.  

When Damian finally pulled away, Talon’s eyes were closed as he let himself fall forward, hiding his face in Damian’s shoulder. Damian wrapped his arms around Talon. When Talon left his room, they would be fighting against each other again. Similar ideals with two different ways of executing them. Two driving forces that would keep their paths from crossing like this again.

It could’ve been seconds or even hours when Talon pulled away again, keeping his gaze away from Damian’s. “I have to go.”

“I know.” Damian let his hand fall onto his lap and he closed his eyes. The blanket fell to the ground followed by the window opening and closing. He didn’t open his eyes as he crawled back into bed and pulled the comforter over his head to block out the light.

Titus whimpered softly and got on the bed, pressing his body against Damian’s back.

“You’re right, Titus. This sucks,” Damian muttered. He reached back and scratched the dog’s head. He’d sulk tonight and tomorrow Damian would shrug it off.

That’s the way it had to be.


	8. Chapter 8

“He didn’t say when they would make their next move or where?” Bruce asked.

Damian sighed and shook his head again. “No, father.” He’d told Bruce of Talon’s visit, he wouldn’t be able to hide something like that. Talon might have been able to get through the manor security, but that didn’t mean his presence wouldn’t be noticed after the fact. Damian just thought it better to speak to his father directly.

“We’re going to have to keep an eye out then. At all times.” Bruce straightened his jacket. “We need to be ready.”

“Which is why we’re being bait? Doesn’t make much sense, old man.” Jason was tugging on the arms of his own suit jacket.

Bruce turned to Jason and shrugged. “Bait? I don’t know what you’re talking about, Jay.”

Jason leaned down to whisper in Damian’s ear. “Such a smartass.”

Damian thought that going out together was a good idea. It might draw Talon or the Court of Owls to them. They were all wearing their costumes under their suits in case of a confrontation. That way they might have the chance to set the playing field. Going out to a public event didn’t sit well with Damian, though. “Why the mayoral candidate debate?”

“Simple, our faces will be shown. We’ll be together and out and about. It’s the perfect target.” Bruce followed Alfred towards the garage. The butler would drive them to the event, but they’d walk home part way.

“It’s the obvious target,” Damian said. The Court would only strike now if they were desperate.

They all got into the car and Damian spent the drive staring out the window, wondering if he might catch figures in the shadows. It was still light out for now, but the sun was starting to set. Perhaps Talon would be laying low for now. Unless the Court sent another Talon, like Talon had insinuated. Damian wondered how many Talons there really were. It would be hard to keep track of all of them.

Would the Court send Talon with reinforcements or a group of Talons? It was all possible at this point. They still knew so little about the Court of Owls.

Bruce and Jason were able to find a few traces of Talon in the sewers, but it led to a dead end. There was always the chance that there was more. Now they knew that the Court of Owls likely had their base somewhere in Old Gotham.

There were better way to spend his Sunday afternoon. Damian thought campaigns to be a bore. It was always the same shtick, but worded differently. Gotham would be a better place, improvements would be made, and things would change. It all depended on how the candidates managed to play the audience. Tell the people what they wanted to hear to get what you want.

It was the oldest trick in the book.

Bruce and Jason both smiled and waved for the photographers when they stepped out of the car, but Damian kept his head down. He was known as the closed off son, after all. Jason never liked these events either, but he learned how to deal with them over the years. Damian simply wouldn’t let his disdain for them go away.

It was already getting darker and Damian tried to look around, but there were too many people. In the end he let himself be shepherded inside by his father. They moved as a unit, stopping when Bruce saw someone he knew and lingering while they spoke. Eventually they managed to get to their seats. Even then, there were always people to talk to. The people sitting next to them struck up a conversation that the people in front of them joined in on.

Damian pulled out his phone, ignoring the way that Jason ducked down to follow along with what he was doing. There was only so much Jason could take, after all. Bruce was a master at masks, but Jason only had a certain amount that he could do before he had to pause and recharge. He always lingered with Damian when that time came.

“Got anything interesting on there?” Jason whispered.

Damian tilted the phone towards Jason so he could see. “It’s a game. You get letters and have to make words with them.”

“Hell yes.” Jason leaned against Damian and they worked together to go through the word puzzles. It wasn’t a game that Damian played for himself, but he’d found it and decided it would be a good game for events like this. Luckily he’d kept it on his phone.

“Boys. It’s starting,” Bruce said after a while.

Damian slipped his phone into his pocket, trying not to smile when Jason groaned in disappointment.

The next hour went by slowly. If he didn’t have to keep up appearances, Damian might have actually fallen asleep. As it was, he had to pinch his thigh periodically to stay awake. This was even more boring than sitting out on stakeouts that didn’t lead to anything. At least then, Damian was able to do something other than watch. Here he’d be admonished.

It was a relief when the intermission started. Damian immediately stood up. “I’m going to stretch my legs.”

“Be back in ten minutes,” Bruce said.

“Yes, father.” Damian handed Jason his phone so he could continue playing the game and slipped through the crowd that was making their way to a mini-bar. How predictable.

There were a few people getting their coats from the coat check so they could go outside and smoke or whatever it was that they did. Damian stood off to the side to watch the people stream through.

Someone came up beside him and Damian turned to tell them to go away, but the words died in his mouth.

Talon was standing next to him, nonchalantly playing with a file. He was wearing slacks and a button up shirt and he held his head down, likely to hide his eyes from the people walking by. “Good evening, Damian.”

“What are you doing here?” He hissed out. When Talon said that the Court of Owls would make their move, Damian hadn’t actually expected it to be the night after they spoke.

“The Court of Owls has sentenced the Wayne’s to die.” Talon smiled at him and pressed the file into Damian’s side. It was more threatening than anything else. “I came to give you one last chance to back out.”

Damian didn’t move. He didn’t want to draw attention to them. “I thought you said that you weren’t going to hesitate.”

“I won’t, when it comes down to it.” Talon ducked his head even lower when a woman stumbled past them, giggling as she had to lean against the wall to keep her balance.

“But you’re giving away your intentions,” Damian whispered.

“ _He_ likes giving hints. If he had his way, it’d be burned into the ground,” Talon said. He lifted his head again and looked straight at Damian.

“Who’s he?” Damian asked.

“Please return to your seats. The debate will continue in two minutes!” An announcement rang out. People started filing into the hall again and Talon quickly pulled away without a word. Damian almost chased after him, but the knowledge that there was at least more than one Talon around stopped him.

He knew that on his own it’d be difficult to hold an edge over one Talon, he didn’t dare think how it’d go if he tried to fight two or three.

Damian turned and followed the crowd. He swiped his phone from Jason, ignoring his brother’s protest and typed out a message. He showed it to Jason first and then to his father.

 _They’re here_.

The smile fell from Bruce’s lips, his brows furrowing. He looked around before he focused on Damian again and Damian shook his head, as he was pretty sure that Talon wasn’t in the building anymore. He didn’t know if they’d be waiting outside or somewhere in the area. Perhaps they’d go to the manor.

It all depended on the person that Talon was speaking of. This other Talon. The way his Talon spoke of him, it seemed that this new Talon was the one in charge between the two of them. Damian’s Talon was cautious, but the question was if the warning was in good will or not.

He couldn’t keep his mind off it even as the debate continued. His father was tense beside him and Jason was constantly shifting in his seat. They were all eager to get away.

Not only to find the Talons, but also to get away from the people.

If they were around the general populace when the Talons attacked, it wouldn’t end well for anyone.

Bruce got up just as the debate leader made his final remarks and Jason and Damian quickly followed. There were a few murmurs of confusion, but those were easily ignored. Let them talk amongst themselves about why the Waynes left early. It’d be a good distraction.

When he saw Bruce starting to take his suit off, Damian pulled his off as well. They dumped their clothes behind a dumpster and made for the rooftops. Hopefully they’d be able to get to a drop that Alfred was sending their way before the Talons came upon them. Damian had been able to wear his costume under his suit, but Bruce and Jason were both lacking in armor. It wasn’t as if Bruce could wear a heavily plated top and Jason could walk around in his jacket.

Damian spotted the drop above them when a Talon appeared and jumped on top of Batman. This was a different one. His bodysuit was darker and he didn’t have as much embellishments as the other Talon – as Richard did. The only real similarities were their vambraces and goggles.

“Robin!” Specter pulled him out of the way of throwing knives.

A smaller Talon appeared and Damian immediately recognized Richard. Damian grabbed one of the knives and threw it back at Richard, who just sidestepped.

“The Court of Owls has sentenced you to die,” the taller Talon said. “How I love killing Waynes.” The Talon and Batman struggled with each other before the overbalanced and fell off the roof.

“Go!” Specter shouted to Damian.

Damian looked at Richard pulling out two larger knives, advancing on both him and Specter. Damian remembered his words. If he wasn’t going to hesitate then Damian wouldn’t either. He listened to Specter, leaping of the building to follow Batman down.

Since the Talon was going to heal anyways, Damian pulled out a batarang as he grabbed onto a pipe to slow his descent. He looked down before he jumped again, landing on the Talon’s back and stabbing him in the shoulder. The Talon grabbed Damian’s arm and tossed him off. He collided with the wall and gasped at the impact.

The Talon wasn’t worried about the batarang at all. It stuck out of his shoulder as he kept fighting Batman. Batman struck at all of the human body’s weak points, the solar plexus, jaw, nose, but the Talon easily blocked every strike. Where Richard was good at deflecting blows and immediately disarming an opponent, this Talon looked like he was batting away everything that came at him.

Damian got up to join in. The Talon might be able to block Batman’s blows, but would he be able to block Batman and Robin?

 Years of training built up easy coordination. Batman and Robin fought as one, reading each other movements even in close quarters.

Even when they managed to land blows, the Talon barely flinched. It was only when Batman connected with the Talon’s instep and Damian jabbed at the Talon’s Adam’s Apple that the assassin stumbled back. He took a few steps and pulled out throwing knives, lobbing them at Batman and Damian.

One hit Batman, digging into his arm and another grazed Damian’s leg.

The Talon pulled out more knives when another figure came falling from the roof and landed on a pile of boxes. By the colour difference it was easy to see that it was Richard. Specter had managed to throw him off, which was a good idea.

“How disappointing,” the Talon said as Richard pushed himself back up.

Damian’s brows furrowed at the exchange when Specter slid down to the ground next to him. There was a cut on his face and the front of his suit was cut open. “Did I miss the fun?”

“Your definition of fun is very different from mine.” Batman pulled the knife from his arm with a groan.

The Talon’s moved together this time. Once they got close, Richard jumped up while the Talon kept himself low. They fought in close quarters, moving each blow to another person and making sure that the other was covered. Every time that Damian tried to strike out at the Talon, he had to dodge a hit from Richard.

Specter was the one that stumbled first. He struck out when he should have blocked and Richard grabbed his arm, twisting it and slamming him into the wall. Damian tried to run forward to pull Richard off of Specter, but his cape was grabbed and he choked as the Talon pulled back hard, making him fall on his back.

“Your boys are good, but not good enough!” The Talon called out as he brought down a clawed hand at Damian.

Damian rolled away, but not before the claws tore a part of his mask and scratched his face. A foot stomped down on his side and Damian cried out in pain.

Batman growled and threw himself at the Talon, toppling the both of them to the ground.

Damian rolled so he could push himself up onto his hands and knees. His face stung and his lower ribs were screaming at him, but he had to keep going. He saw that Jason was still being pinned down by Richard and ran over to them. His father could take care of himself for now.

He wrapped his arms around Richard’s neck and tightened his hold as much as he could with the way his ribs were hurting. Richard’s hands came up, letting go of Jason as he grabbed Damian’s forearms, but he didn’t dig his claws in.

“You’re going to die, Damian,” Richard gritted out. “You can’t stop us.”

“At least I’ll die stopping a disgusting and corrupt organization!” Damian said.

Richard struggled and Damian tightened his hold. “You’d sacrifice yourself? Why? You act like Gotham City is worth it, like the people are worth it.”

“There will always be something worth it. As long as I see hope in the people like my father saw in me, it’s worth it! Even you are.” Damian wrenched Richard to the side, smashing his head against the wall. Richard’s body slumped. It looked like the Talons weren’t impervious to everything.

“You look like shit,” Specter said with a low chuckle.

“Look at yourself.” Damian hesitated between leaving Richard be to go and help his father or stay by him. If his regenerative skills were as good as Damian thought, he wouldn’t be down for long.

Specter saw Damian’s hesitation and zip tied Richard’s hands. “Let’s go help the old man.”

Those wouldn’t hold Richard for long, but it’d give them good enough warning for when he woke up again.

Batman was already holding an edge over the Talon when Specter and Damian made it over to them. They’d fought over to the other end of the alley. “Stay back!” Batman called out.

Damian stopped in his tracks, looking between Batman and Specter, who was staying in place. He seemed confident enough to listen to Batman. His eyes tracked every movement, taking in how the Talon moved and how it was similar to Richard, but unique in its own way. The Talon rarely kicked or used his feet, mostly focusing on hand to hand or his knives. His blows were precise, always aiming for vitals spots.

That made his movements easier to track. The Talon was seeking to kill rather than disarm and that’s where Batman held the upper edge.

Round kick, block, knife slash in retaliation, block, left hook.

The Talon lifted his hand over his head and let the knife go, catching it with his opposite hand and slicing Batman’s chest. Batman reared back and the Talon pulled out another knife, aiming in for Batman’s exposed chin.

“No!” Damian ran forward to push his father aside. The Talon didn’t miss a beat and no sooner that Batman was out of the way, his arm came down to trap Damian.

Something ploughed into his injured side and Damian fell back just before the arm clamped down around him. Instead Richard was in his place, the Talon’s arm wrapped around his neck and a knife embedded in his side.

The Talon tutted and shook his head. “I thought we trained you out of being self-sacrificing, boy. Consider this the first part of your punishment.”

Richard looked at Damian as the Talon grabbed his head with both hands. “Freeze him! Robin, free-” His head twisted to the side, bones snapping loudly when the Talon broke his neck. Richard’s body slumped to the ground.

The Talon bent down, pulling his knife out of Richard’s unmoving body.

Damian would’ve screamed, if his father hadn’t beaten him it. He roared as he threw himself at the Talon again, attacking relentlessly.

Damian crawled over to Richard’s body and pulled the hood off. Richard’s eyes were still open, staring off into nothingness. “You fool…” Why had he pushed Damian aside? After everything he’d said, why had Richard taken the killing blow for him? Damian’s hands shook as he cradled Richard’s cheeks and pressed his forehead against the unruly hair.

“Robin.” Specter came over, tugging on his shoulder. “Robin, I know you’re hurting, but you need to focus. What did he say?”

“What did he…” Damian took a deep breath. “Freeze him. We need to freeze the Talon.”

“That’s right. There are going to be freeze grenades in Batman’s belt in the drop. You need to get them while we hold the Talon off,” Specter said.

Damian pulled his hands away from Richard’s face. Jason was right. There would be time for mourning later. “Okay.” He got up again and grabbed his grapple. Climbing was going to be hard with his ribs.

As soon as he was lifted off the ground, Damian watched as Specter went in to help Batman.

Get the freeze grenades from the belt. That was all he had to do. Damian didn’t know how they were going to help. With the Talon’s enhanced strength, it was likely he’d just be able to get rid of the ice, but Richard knew best what the Talon’s weakness would be.

Damian spotted the drop and ran to it. He quickly typed in the access code. The container opened way too slowly. It was something that he was going to have to work on. This was of no use to him.

There was a whooshing sound and a pain in his ear. A knife thudded into the container. “Where do you think you’re going, little bird?” The Talon had decided to chase him rather than stay with Batman and Specter. “I’m going to kill the other two and then take you to the Court with me. I want to see what’s so special about you.”

Damian grabbed a freeze grenade and tossed it at the Talon. It exploded off to his right, Damian’s aim impaired because of the quick throw. The radius was large enough that the frost covered the Talon’s right side.

The Talon twitched and reached over to brush the ice off.

“He’s slowing down! Throw another!” Specter came up as well.

The Talon was moving slower. His right side wasn’t moving a fluidly as before. Damian grabbed the remaining freeze grenades and started throwing them. The Talon tried to get away, but with each blast he slowed down more and more.

“This is for Richard.” Damian threw the last grenade, hitting the Talon right in the chest and freezing him in place.

“I sure hope he’s going to stay like that for a while.” Specter bent over, placing his hands on his knees as he caught his breath.

“What about…” A grapple gun engaged and Batman came up, cradling Richard’s body.

Damian ran over as Batman laid Richard on the ground. “He helped us,” Batman said.

“He said that he wouldn’t.” He still couldn’t rationalize why Richard had taken his place.

“We’ll take him back to the cave along with the other Talon. The Court isn’t going to get him again.”

Damian nodded. It was the least that they could do for Richard. The batplane hovered over them when it arrived, and they loaded up Richard and the Talon.

When they got back to the cave, they placed the Talon in one of the holding cells. On such short notice they didn’t have a way to keep the temperature at freezing, so they had to improvise and use the reacting agents from the freeze grenades to cool down the cell.

Damian kept looking at the gurney that they’d placed Richard on, even as Alfred checked on his ribs. They were definitely bruised. The cuts on his face were shallow as well. All in all, Damian had likely gotten away the most unscathed.  

Jason had a torn muscle in his arm and a cut on his cheek that required stitches while Bruce had multiple stab wounds, a broken finger, and a large gash on his chest.

“We’re going to have to study the Talon. Find out everything we can about him,” Bruce said, gritting his teeth as Alfred set his finger.

Jason was standing by the cell and looked at the incapacitated Talon. “I wonder how they can regenerate, but are affected by sub-zero temperatures.”

“It’s called Electrum. It reanimates dead tissue and heals living tissue, but it needs heat.” Damian’s gaze snapped over to the gurney, where Richard was sitting up. He slid off of the gurney and walked over to where Jason was standing like his neck hadn’t just been broken. They all stared at him as he placed a hand on the glass wall. “What have I done?”

Damian hurried over to Richard’s side and grabbed onto his arm. He slid his hand down to feel Richard’s pulse, just to make sure that he wasn’t just seeing things.

“The Court of Owls won’t stop. They’ll seek to reclaim the both of us,” Richard said, not looking away from the Talon’s body.

“You made the right choice. We can stop them together.” Damian held out his free hand in front of Richard.

It was the third time that Damian had offered his hand, and this time Richard took it. He grabbed Damian’s hand and squeezed it, finally looking away from the imprisoned Talon. “Can we?”

“We can.” This was how it was always supposed to be. From the start Richard was supposed to have been with them. “You can finally be Robin.”

Richard shook his head. “No. Robin suits you. You can keep it.” He leaned forward against Damian, who wrapped his arms around Richard.

“It’s good to have you back, Dick,” Bruce said.

“Except not really. Can you settle for that, Bruce?” Richard asked.

“Yeah, old man. Can an old dog learn new tricks?” Jason joked with a grin.

Richard snorted against Damian’s chest and started chuckling. It was one of the best sounds that Damian had ever heard. Now they just needed to get through this.

**Author's Note:**

> I am a dumpster collecting trash. Join me on [Tumblr](http://flashthroughlight.tumblr.com/).


End file.
